The Second Part of Henry the FourthThe Second Part of Henry the FourthWilliam ShakespeareASCII text placed in the public domain by Moby Lexical Tools, 1992.SGML markup by Jon Bosak, 1992-1994.XML version by Jon Bosak, 1996-1999.DocBook version by Scott Hudson, 2008.Bosak and Hudson license this work for worldwide use under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/legalcode).http://metalab.unc.edu/bosak/xml/eg/shaks200.zipDramatis PersonaeRUMOUR, the Presenter.KING HENRY, the Fourth. PRINCE HENRY OF WALES afterwards KING HENRY V.THOMAS, DUKE OF, CLARENCEPRINCE HUMPHREY, OF GLOUCESTERsons of King Henry.EARL OF WARWICKEARL OF WESTMORELANDEARL OF SURREYGOWERHARCOURTBLUNTLord Chief-Justice of the King's BenchA Servant of the Chief-Justice.EARL OF NORTHUMBERLANDSCROOP, ARCHBISHOP OF YORKLORD MOWBRAYLORD HASTINGSLORD BARDOLPHSIR JOHN COLEVILETRAVERSMORTONretainers of Northumberland.SIR JOHN FALSTAFFHis Page. BARDOLPHPISTOLPOINSPETOSHALLOWSILENCEcountry justices.DAVY, servant to Shallow.MOULDYSHADOWWARTFEEBLEBULLCALFrecruits.FANGSNAREsheriff's officers.LADY NORTHUMBERLANDLADY PERCYMISTRESS QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap.DOLL TEARSHEETLords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, Beadles, Grooms, &c.A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue.SCENE England.INDUCTIONWarkworth. Before the castleEnter RUMOUR, painted full of tonguesRUMOUROpen your ears; for which of you will stopThe vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?I, from the orient to the drooping west,Making the wind my post-horse, still unfoldThe acts commenced on this ball of earth:Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,The which in every language I pronounce,Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.I speak of peace, while covert enmityUnder the smile of safety wounds the world:And who but Rumour, who but only I,Make fearful musters and prepared defence,Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief,Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,And no such matter? Rumour is a pipeBlown by surmises, jealousies, conjecturesAnd of so easy and so plain a stopThat the blunt monster with uncounted heads,The still-discordant wavering multitude,Can play upon it. But what need I thusMy well-known body to anatomizeAmong my household? Why is Rumour here?I run before King Harry's victory;Who in a bloody field by ShrewsburyHath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,Quenching the flame of bold rebellionEven with the rebel's blood. But what mean ITo speak so true at first? my office isTo noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fellUnder the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword,And that the king before the Douglas' rageStoop'd his anointed head as low as death.This have I rumour'd through the peasant townsBetween that royal field of ShrewsburyAnd this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,And not a man of them brings other newsThan they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tonguesThey bring smooth comforts false, worse thantrue wrongs.ExitACT ISCENE I. The same.Enter LORD BARDOLPHLORD BARDOLPHWho keeps the gate here, ho?The Porter opens the gateWhere is the earl?PorterWhat shall I say you are?LORD BARDOLPHTell thou the earlThat the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.PorterHis lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard;Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,And he himself wilt answer.Enter NORTHUMBERLANDLORD BARDOLPHHere comes the earl.Exit PorterNORTHUMBERLANDWhat news, Lord Bardolph? every minute nowShould be the father of some stratagem:The times are wild: contention, like a horseFull of high feeding, madly hath broke looseAnd bears down all before him.LORD BARDOLPHNoble earl,I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.NORTHUMBERLANDGood, an God will!LORD BARDOLPHAs good as heart can wish:The king is almost wounded to the death;And, in the fortune of my lord your son,Prince Harry slain outright; and both the BluntsKill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince JohnAnd Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day,So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won,Came not till now to dignify the times,Since Caesar's fortunes!NORTHUMBERLANDHow is this derived?Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?LORD BARDOLPHI spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,A gentleman well bred and of good name,That freely render'd me these news for true.NORTHUMBERLANDHere comes my servant Travers, whom I sentOn Tuesday last to listen after news.Enter TRAVERSLORD BARDOLPHMy lord, I over-rode him on the way;And he is furnish'd with no certaintiesMore than he haply may retail from me.NORTHUMBERLANDNow, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?TRAVERSMy lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me backWith joyful tidings; and, being better horsed,Out-rode me. After him came spurring hardA gentleman, almost forspent with speed,That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.He ask'd the way to Chester; and of himI did demand what news from Shrewsbury:He told me that rebellion had bad luckAnd that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.With that, he gave his able horse the head,And bending forward struck his armed heelsAgainst the panting sides of his poor jadeUp to the rowel-head, and starting soHe seem'd in running to devour the way,Staying no longer question.NORTHUMBERLANDHa! Again:Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellionHad met ill luck?LORD BARDOLPHMy lord, I'll tell you what;If my young lord your son have not the day,Upon mine honour, for a silken pointI'll give my barony: never talk of it.NORTHUMBERLANDWhy should that gentleman that rode by TraversGive then such instances of loss?LORD BARDOLPHWho, he?He was some hilding fellow that had stolenThe horse he rode on, and, upon my life,Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.Enter MORTONNORTHUMBERLANDYea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:So looks the strand whereon the imperious floodHath left a witness'd usurpation.Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?MORTONI ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;Where hateful death put on his ugliest maskTo fright our party.NORTHUMBERLANDHow doth my son and brother?Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheekIs apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it.This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus;Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:'Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.'MORTONDouglas is living, and your brother, yet;But, for my lord your son--NORTHUMBERLANDWhy, he is dead.See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!He that but fears the thing he would not knowHath by instinct knowledge from others' eyesThat what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;Tell thou an earl his divination lies,And I will take it as a sweet disgraceAnd make thee rich for doing me such wrong.MORTONYou are too great to be by me gainsaid:Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.NORTHUMBERLANDYet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead.I see a strange confession in thine eye:Thou shakest thy head and hold'st it fear or sinTo speak a truth. If he be slain, say so;The tongue offends not that reports his death:And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,Not he which says the dead is not alive.Yet the first bringer of unwelcome newsHath but a losing office, and his tongueSounds ever after as a sullen bell,Remember'd tolling a departing friend.LORD BARDOLPHI cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.MORTONI am sorry I should force you to believeThat which I would to God I had not seen;But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed,To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat downThe never-daunted Percy to the earth,From whence with life he never more sprung up.In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fireEven to the dullest peasant in his camp,Being bruited once, took fire and heat awayFrom the best temper'd courage in his troops;For from his metal was his party steel'd;Which once in him abated, all the restTurn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead:And as the thing that's heavy in itself,Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,Lend to this weight such lightness with their fearThat arrows fled not swifter toward their aimThan did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,Fly from the field. Then was the noble WorcesterToo soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring swordHad three times slain the appearance of the king,'Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shameOf those that turn'd their backs, and in his flight,Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of allIs that the king hath won, and hath sent outA speedy power to encounter you, my lord,Under the conduct of young LancasterAnd Westmoreland. This is the news at full.NORTHUMBERLANDFor this I shall have time enough to mourn.In poison there is physic; and these news,Having been well, that would have made me sick,Being sick, have in some measure made me well:And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints,Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fireOut of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief,Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch!A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steelMust glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif!Thou art a guard too wanton for the headWhich princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.Now bind my brows with iron; and approachThe ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bringTo frown upon the enraged Northumberland!Let heaven kiss earth! now let not Nature's handKeep the wild flood confined! let order die!And let this world no longer be a stageTo feed contention in a lingering act;But let one spirit of the first-born CainReign in all bosoms, that, each heart being setOn bloody courses, the rude scene may end,And darkness be the burier of the dead!TRAVERSThis strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.LORD BARDOLPHSweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.MORTONThe lives of all your loving complicesLean on your health; the which, if you give o'erTo stormy passion, must perforce decay.You cast the event of war, my noble lord,And summ'd the account of chance, before you said'Let us make head.' It was your presurmise,That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop:You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge,More likely to fall in than to get o'er;You were advised his flesh was capableOf wounds and scars and that his forward spiritWould lift him where most trade of danger ranged:Yet did you say 'Go forth;' and none of this,Though strongly apprehended, could restrainThe stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen,Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,More than that being which was like to be?LORD BARDOLPHWe all that are engaged to this lossKnew that we ventured on such dangerous seasThat if we wrought our life 'twas ten to one;And yet we ventured, for the gain proposedChoked the respect of likely peril fear'd;And since we are o'erset, venture again.Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.MORTON'Tis more than time: and, my most noble lord,I hear for certain, and do speak the truth,The gentle Archbishop of York is upWith well-appointed powers: he is a manWho with a double surety binds his followers.My lord your son had only but the corpse,But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;For that same word, rebellion, did divideThe action of their bodies from their souls;And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd,As men drink potions, that their weapons onlySeem'd on our side; but, for their spirits and souls,This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,As fish are in a pond. But now the bishopTurns insurrection to religion:Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,He's followed both with body and with mind;And doth enlarge his rising with the bloodOf fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones;Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;And more and less do flock to follow him.NORTHUMBERLANDI knew of this before; but, to speak truth,This present grief had wiped it from my mind.Go in with me; and counsel every manThe aptest way for safety and revenge:Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed:Never so few, and never yet more need.ExeuntSCENE II. London. A street.Enter FALSTAFF, with his Page bearing his sword
and bucklerFALSTAFFSirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?PageHe said, sir, the water itself was a good healthywater; but, for the party that owed it, he mighthave more diseases than he knew for.FALSTAFFMen of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: thebrain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is notable to invent anything that tends to laughter, morethan I invent or is invented on me: I am not onlywitty in myself, but the cause that wit is in othermen. I do here walk before thee like a sow thathath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If theprince put thee into my service for any other reasonthan to set me off, why then I have no judgment.Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be wornin my cap than to wait at my heels. I was nevermanned with an agate till now: but I will inset youneither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, andsend you back again to your master, for a jewel,--the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin isnot yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow inthe palm of my hand than he shall get one on hischeek; and yet he will not stick to say his face isa face-royal: God may finish it when he will, 'tisnot a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still at aface-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpenceout of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he hadwrit man ever since his father was a bachelor. Hemay keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine,I can assure him. What said Master Dombledon aboutthe satin for my short cloak and my slops?PageHe said, sir, you should procure him betterassurance than Bardolph: he would not take hisband and yours; he liked not the security.FALSTAFFLet him be damned, like the glutton! pray God histongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! a rascallyyea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand,and then stand upon security! The whoresonsmooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, andbunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man isthrough with them in honest taking up, then theymust stand upon security. I had as lief they wouldput ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it withsecurity. I looked a' should have sent me two andtwenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and hesends me security. Well, he may sleep in security;for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightnessof his wife shines through it: and yet cannot hesee, though he have his own lanthorn to light him.Where's Bardolph?PageHe's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.FALSTAFFI bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse inSmithfield: an I could get me but a wife in thestews, I were manned, horsed, and wived.Enter the Lord Chief-Justice and ServantPageSir, here comes the nobleman that committed thePrince for striking him about Bardolph.FALSTAFFWait, close; I will not see him.Lord Chief-JusticeWhat's he that goes there?ServantFalstaff, an't please your lordship.Lord Chief-JusticeHe that was in question for the robbery?ServantHe, my lord: but he hath since done good service atShrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with somecharge to the Lord John of Lancaster.Lord Chief-JusticeWhat, to York? Call him back again.ServantSir John Falstaff!FALSTAFFBoy, tell him I am deaf.PageYou must speak louder; my master is deaf.Lord Chief-JusticeI am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good.Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him.ServantSir John!FALSTAFFWhat! a young knave, and begging! Is there notwars? is there not employment? doth not the kinglack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers?Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, itis worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side,were it worse than the name of rebellion can tellhow to make it.ServantYou mistake me, sir.FALSTAFFWhy, sir, did I say you were an honest man? settingmy knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had liedin my throat, if I had said so.ServantI pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and oursoldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you,you lie in your throat, if you say I am any otherthan an honest man.FALSTAFFI give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside thatwhich grows to me! if thou gettest any leave of me,hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better behanged. You hunt counter: hence! avaunt!ServantSir, my lord would speak with you.Lord Chief-JusticeSir John Falstaff, a word with you.FALSTAFFMy good lord! God give your lordship good time ofday. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heardsay your lordship was sick: I hope your lordshipgoes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though notclean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age inyou, some relish of the saltness of time; and I musthumbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent careof your health.Lord Chief-JusticeSir John, I sent for you before your expedition toShrewsbury.FALSTAFFAn't please your lordship, I hear his majesty isreturned with some discomfort from Wales.Lord Chief-JusticeI talk not of his majesty: you would not come whenI sent for you.FALSTAFFAnd I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen intothis same whoreson apoplexy.Lord Chief-JusticeWell, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak withyou.FALSTAFFThis apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy,an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in theblood, a whoreson tingling.Lord Chief-JusticeWhat tell you me of it? be it as it is.FALSTAFFIt hath its original from much grief, from study andperturbation of the brain: I have read the cause ofhis effects in Galen: it is a kind of deafness.Lord Chief-JusticeI think you are fallen into the disease; for youhear not what I say to you.FALSTAFFVery well, my lord, very well: rather, an't pleaseyou, it is the disease of not listening, the maladyof not marking, that I am troubled withal.Lord Chief-JusticeTo punish you by the heels would amend theattention of your ears; and I care not if I dobecome your physician.FALSTAFFI am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient:your lordship may minister the potion ofimprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but howshould I be your patient to follow yourprescriptions, the wise may make some dram of ascruple, or indeed a scruple itself.Lord Chief-JusticeI sent for you, when there were matters against youfor your life, to come speak with me.FALSTAFFAs I was then advised by my learned counsel in thelaws of this land-service, I did not come.Lord Chief-JusticeWell, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.FALSTAFFHe that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less.Lord Chief-JusticeYour means are very slender, and your waste is great.FALSTAFFI would it were otherwise; I would my means weregreater, and my waist slenderer.Lord Chief-JusticeYou have misled the youthful prince.FALSTAFFThe young prince hath misled me: I am the fellowwith the great belly, and he my dog.Lord Chief-JusticeWell, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: yourday's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gildedover your night's exploit on Gad's-hill: you maythank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-postingthat action.FALSTAFFMy lord?Lord Chief-JusticeBut since all is well, keep it so: wake not asleeping wolf.FALSTAFFTo wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox.Lord Chief-JusticeWhat! you are as a candle, the better part burntout.FALSTAFFA wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: if I did sayof wax, my growth would approve the truth.Lord Chief-JusticeThere is not a white hair on your face but shouldhave his effect of gravity.FALSTAFFHis effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.Lord Chief-JusticeYou follow the young prince up and down, like hisill angel.FALSTAFFNot so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I hopehe that looks upon me will take me without weighing:and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go: Icannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in thesecostermonger times that true valour is turnedbear-herd: pregnancy is made a tapster, and hathhis quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all theother gifts appertinent to man, as the malice ofthis age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry.You that are old consider not the capacities of usthat are young; you do measure the heat of ourlivers with the bitterness of your galls: and wethat are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess,are wags too.Lord Chief-JusticeDo you set down your name in the scroll of youth,that are written down old with all the characters ofage? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? ayellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? anincreasing belly? is not your voice broken? yourwind short? your chin double? your wit single? andevery part about you blasted with antiquity? andwill you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!FALSTAFFMy lord, I was born about three of the clock in theafternoon, with a white head and something a roundbelly. For my voice, I have lost it with halloingand singing of anthems. To approve my youthfurther, I will not: the truth is, I am only old injudgment and understanding; and he that will caperwith me for a thousand marks, let him lend me themoney, and have at him! For the box of the ear thatthe prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince,and you took it like a sensible lord. I havechequed him for it, and the young lion repents;marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silkand old sack.Lord Chief-JusticeWell, God send the prince a better companion!FALSTAFFGod send the companion a better prince! I cannotrid my hands of him.Lord Chief-JusticeWell, the king hath severed you and Prince Harry: Ihear you are going with Lord John of Lancasteragainst the Archbishop and the Earl ofNorthumberland.FALSTAFFYea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But lookyou pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home,that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by theLord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I meannot to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day,and I brandish any thing but a bottle, I would Imight never spit white again. There is not adangerous action can peep out his head but I amthrust upon it: well, I cannot last ever: but itwas alway yet the trick of our English nation, ifthey have a good thing, to make it too common. Ifye will needs say I am an old man, you should giveme rest. I would to God my name were not soterrible to the enemy as it is: I were better to beeaten to death with a rust than to be scoured tonothing with perpetual motion.Lord Chief-JusticeWell, be honest, be honest; and God bless yourexpedition!FALSTAFFWill your lordship lend me a thousand pound tofurnish me forth?Lord Chief-JusticeNot a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient tobear crosses. Fare you well: commend me to mycousin Westmoreland.Exeunt Chief-Justice and ServantFALSTAFFIf I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A mancan no more separate age and covetousness than a'can part young limbs and lechery: but the goutgalls the one, and the pox pinches the other; andso both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy!PageSir?FALSTAFFWhat money is in my purse?PageSeven groats and two pence.FALSTAFFI can get no remedy against this consumption of thepurse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out,but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letterto my Lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; thisto the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to oldMistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marrysince I perceived the first white hair on my chin.About it: you know where to find me.Exit PageA pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! forthe one or the other plays the rogue with my greattoe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the warsfor my colour, and my pension shall seem the morereasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing:I will turn diseases to commodity.ExitSCENE III. York. The Archbishop's palace.Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the Lords HASTINGS,
MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPHARCHBISHOP OF YORKThus have you heard our cause and known our means;And, my most noble friends, I pray you all,Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes:And first, lord marshal, what say you to it?MOWBRAYI well allow the occasion of our arms;But gladly would be better satisfiedHow in our means we should advance ourselvesTo look with forehead bold and big enoughUpon the power and puissance of the king.HASTINGSOur present musters grow upon the fileTo five and twenty thousand men of choice;And our supplies live largely in the hopeOf great Northumberland, whose bosom burnsWith an incensed fire of injuries.LORD BARDOLPHThe question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus;Whether our present five and twenty thousandMay hold up head without Northumberland?HASTINGSWith him, we may.LORD BARDOLPHYea, marry, there's the point:But if without him we be thought too feeble,My judgment is, we should not step too farTill we had his assistance by the hand;For in a theme so bloody-faced as thisConjecture, expectation, and surmiseOf aids incertain should not be admitted.ARCHBISHOP OF YORK'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeedIt was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.LORD BARDOLPHIt was, my lord; who lined himself with hope,Eating the air on promise of supply,Flattering himself in project of a powerMuch smaller than the smallest of his thoughts:And so, with great imaginationProper to madmen, led his powers to deathAnd winking leap'd into destruction.HASTINGSBut, by your leave, it never yet did hurtTo lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.LORD BARDOLPHYes, if this present quality of war,Indeed the instant action: a cause on footLives so in hope as in an early springWe see the appearing buds; which to prove fruit,Hope gives not so much warrant as despairThat frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,We first survey the plot, then draw the model;And when we see the figure of the house,Then must we rate the cost of the erection;Which if we find outweighs ability,What do we then but draw anew the modelIn fewer offices, or at last desistTo build at all? Much more, in this great work,Which is almost to pluck a kingdom downAnd set another up, should we surveyThe plot of situation and the model,Consent upon a sure foundation,Question surveyors, know our own estate,How able such a work to undergo,To weigh against his opposite; or elseWe fortify in paper and in figures,Using the names of men instead of men:Like one that draws the model of a houseBeyond his power to build it; who, half through,Gives o'er and leaves his part-created costA naked subject to the weeping cloudsAnd waste for churlish winter's tyranny.HASTINGSGrant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,Should be still-born, and that we now possess'dThe utmost man of expectation,I think we are a body strong enough,Even as we are, to equal with the king.LORD BARDOLPHWhat, is the king but five and twenty thousand?HASTINGSTo us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph.For his divisions, as the times do brawl,Are in three heads: one power against the French,And one against Glendower; perforce a thirdMust take up us: so is the unfirm kingIn three divided; and his coffers soundWith hollow poverty and emptiness.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKThat he should draw his several strengths togetherAnd come against us in full puissance,Need not be dreaded.HASTINGSIf he should do so,He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and WelshBaying him at the heels: never fear that.LORD BARDOLPHWho is it like should lead his forces hither?HASTINGSThe Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland;Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth:But who is substituted 'gainst the French,I have no certain notice.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKLet us on,And publish the occasion of our arms.The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;Their over-greedy love hath surfeited:An habitation giddy and unsureHath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.O thou fond many, with what loud applauseDidst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!And being now trimm'd in thine own desires,Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,That thou provokest thyself to cast him up.So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorgeThy glutton bosom of the royal Richard;And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,And howl'st to find it. What trust is inthese times?They that, when Richard lived, would have him die,Are now become enamour'd on his grave:Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly headWhen through proud London he came sighing onAfter the admired heels of Bolingbroke,Criest now 'O earth, yield us that king again,And take thou this!' O thoughts of men accursed!Past and to come seems best; things present worst.MOWBRAYShall we go draw our numbers and set on?HASTINGSWe are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.ExeuntACT IISCENE I. London. A street.Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY, FANG and his Boy with her,
and SNARE following.MISTRESS QUICKLYMaster Fang, have you entered the action?FANGIt is entered.MISTRESS QUICKLYWhere's your yeoman? Is't a lusty yeoman?Will a' stand to 't?FANGSirrah, where's Snare?MISTRESS QUICKLYO Lord, ay! good Master Snare.SNAREHere, here.FANGSnare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.MISTRESS QUICKLYYea, good Master Snare; I have entered himand all.SNAREIt may chance cost some of us our lives, forhe will stab.MISTRESS QUICKLYAlas the day! take heed of him; he stabbedme in mine own house, and that most beastly: in good faith, hecares not what mischief he does. If his weapon beout: he will foin like any devil; he will spare neitherman, woman, nor child.FANGIf I can close with him, I care not for histhrust.MISTRESS QUICKLYNo, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow.FANGAn I but fist him once; an a' come butwithin my vice,--MISTRESS QUICKLYI am undone by his going; I warrant you,he's an infinitive thing upon my score. Good MasterFang, hold him sure: good Master Snare, let himnot 'scape. A' comes continuantly to Pie-corner--saving your manhoods--to buy a saddle; and he isindited to dinner to the Lubber's-head in Lumbertstreet, to Master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye,since my exion is entered and my case so openlyknown to the world, let him be brought in to hisanswer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lonewoman to bear: and I have borne, and borne, andborne, and have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, andfubbed off, from this day to that day, that it is ashame to be thought on. There is no honesty in suchdealing; unless a woman should be made an ass and abeast, to bear every knave's wrong.Yonder he comes; and that errant malmsey-nose knave,Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do youroffices: Master Fang and Master Snare, do me, do me,do me your offices.[Enter FALSTAFF, Page, and BARDOLPH]FALSTAFFHow now! whose mare's dead? what's the matter?FANGSir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.FALSTAFFAway, varlets! Draw, Bardolph: cut me off thevillain's head: throw the quean in the channel.MISTRESS QUICKLYThrow me in the channel! I'll throw thee in thechannel. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardlyrogue! Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysucklevillain! wilt thou kill God's officers and theking's? Ah, thou honey-seed rogue! thou art ahoney-seed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller.FALSTAFFKeep them off, Bardolph.FANGA rescue! a rescue!MISTRESS QUICKLYGood people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wo't, wo'tthou? Thou wo't, wo't ta? do, do, thou rogue! do,thou hemp-seed!FALSTAFFAway, you scullion! you rampallion! Youfustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe.Enter the Lord Chief-Justice, and his menLord Chief-JusticeWhat is the matter? keep the peace here, ho!MISTRESS QUICKLYGood my lord, be good to me. I beseech you, stand to me.Lord Chief-JusticeHow now, Sir John! what are you brawling here?Doth this become your place, your time and business?You should have been well on your way to York.Stand from him, fellow: wherefore hang'st upon him?MISTRESS QUICKLYO most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, I ama poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.Lord Chief-JusticeFor what sum?MISTRESS QUICKLYIt is more than for some, my lord; it is for all,all I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home;he hath put all my substance into that fat belly ofhis: but I will have some of it out again, or Iwill ride thee o' nights like the mare.FALSTAFFI think I am as like to ride the mare, if I haveany vantage of ground to get up.Lord Chief-JusticeHow comes this, Sir John? Fie! what man of goodtemper would endure this tempest of exclamation?Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to sorough a course to come by her own?FALSTAFFWhat is the gross sum that I owe thee?MISTRESS QUICKLYMarry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and themoney too. Thou didst swear to me upon aparcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber,at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, uponWednesday in Wheeson week, when the prince brokethy head for liking his father to a singing-man ofWindsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I waswashing thy wound, to marry me and make me my ladythy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwifeKeech, the butcher's wife, come in then and call megossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess ofvinegar; telling us she had a good dish of prawns;whereby thou didst desire to eat some; whereby Itold thee they were ill for a green wound? Anddidst thou not, when she was gone down stairs,desire me to be no more so familiarity with suchpoor people; saying that ere long they should callme madam? And didst thou not kiss me and bid mefetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thybook-oath: deny it, if thou canst.FALSTAFFMy lord, this is a poor mad soul; and she says upand down the town that the eldest son is like you:she hath been in good case, and the truth is,poverty hath distracted her. But for these foolishofficers, I beseech you I may have redress against them.Lord Chief-JusticeSir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with yourmanner of wrenching the true cause the false way. Itis not a confident brow, nor the throng of wordsthat come with such more than impudent saucinessfrom you, can thrust me from a level consideration:you have, as it appears to me, practised upon theeasy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made herserve your uses both in purse and in person.MISTRESS QUICKLYYea, in truth, my lord.Lord Chief-JusticePray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, andunpay the villany you have done her: the one youmay do with sterling money, and the other withcurrent repentance.FALSTAFFMy lord, I will not undergo this sneap withoutreply. You call honourable boldness impudentsauciness: if a man will make courtesy and saynothing, he is virtuous: no, my lord, my humbleduty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I sayto you, I do desire deliverance from these officers,being upon hasty employment in the king's affairs.Lord Chief-JusticeYou speak as having power to do wrong: but answerin the effect of your reputation, and satisfy thispoor woman.FALSTAFFCome hither, hostess.Enter GOWERLord Chief-JusticeNow, Master Gower, what news?GOWERThe king, my lord, and Harry Prince of WalesAre near at hand: the rest the paper tells.FALSTAFFAs I am a gentleman.MISTRESS QUICKLYFaith, you said so before.FALSTAFFAs I am a gentleman. Come, no more words of it.MISTRESS QUICKLYBy this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fainto pawn both my plate and the tapestry of mydining-chambers.FALSTAFFGlasses, glasses is the only drinking: and for thywalls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story ofthe Prodigal, or the German hunting in water-work,is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and thesefly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thoucanst. Come, an 'twere not for thy humours, there'snot a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face,and draw the action. Come, thou must not be inthis humour with me; dost not know me? come, come, Iknow thou wast set on to this.MISTRESS QUICKLYPray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles: i'faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me,la!FALSTAFFLet it alone; I'll make other shift: you'll be afool still.MISTRESS QUICKLYWell, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. Ihope you'll come to supper. You'll pay me all together?FALSTAFFWill I live?To BARDOLPHGo, with her, with her; hook on, hook on.MISTRESS QUICKLYWill you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?FALSTAFFNo more words; let's have her.Exeunt MISTRESS QUICKLY, BARDOLPH, Officers and BoyLord Chief-JusticeI have heard better news.FALSTAFFWhat's the news, my lord?Lord Chief-JusticeWhere lay the king last night?GOWERAt Basingstoke, my lord.FALSTAFFI hope, my lord, all's well: what is the news, my lord?Lord Chief-JusticeCome all his forces back?GOWERNo; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse,Are marched up to my lord of Lancaster,Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.FALSTAFFComes the king back from Wales, my noble lord?Lord Chief-JusticeYou shall have letters of me presently:Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.FALSTAFFMy lord!Lord Chief-JusticeWhat's the matter?FALSTAFFMaster Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?GOWERI must wait upon my good lord here; I thank you,good Sir John.Lord Chief-JusticeSir John, you loiter here too long, being you are totake soldiers up in counties as you go.FALSTAFFWill you sup with me, Master Gower?Lord Chief-JusticeWhat foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John?FALSTAFFMaster Gower, if they become me not, he was a foolthat taught them me. This is the right fencinggrace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair.Lord Chief-JusticeNow the Lord lighten thee! thou art a great fool.ExeuntSCENE II. London. Another street.Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINSPRINCE HENRYBefore God, I am exceeding weary.POINSIs't come to that? I had thought weariness durst nothave attached one of so high blood.PRINCE HENRYFaith, it does me; though it discolours thecomplexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Dothit not show vilely in me to desire small beer?POINSWhy, a prince should not be so loosely studied asto remember so weak a composition.PRINCE HENRYBelike then my appetite was not princely got; for,by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature,small beer. But, indeed, these humbleconsiderations make me out of love with mygreatness. What a disgrace is it to me to rememberthy name! or to know thy face to-morrow! or totake note how many pair of silk stockings thouhast, viz. these, and those that were thypeach-coloured ones! or to bear the inventory of thyshirts, as, one for superfluity, and another foruse! But that the tennis-court-keeper knows betterthan I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee whenthou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not donea great while, because the rest of thy lowcountries have made a shift to eat up thy holland:and God knows, whether those that bawl out the ruinsof thy linen shall inherit his kingdom: but themidwives say the children are not in the fault;whereupon the world increases, and kindreds aremightily strengthened.POINSHow ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard,you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many goodyoung princes would do so, their fathers being sosick as yours at this time is?PRINCE HENRYShall I tell thee one thing, Poins?POINSYes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing.PRINCE HENRYIt shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine.POINSGo to; I stand the push of your one thing that youwill tell.PRINCE HENRYMarry, I tell thee, it is not meet that I should besad, now my father is sick: albeit I could tellthee, as to one it pleases me, for fault of abetter, to call my friend, I could be sad, and sadindeed too.POINSVery hardly upon such a subject.PRINCE HENRYBy this hand thou thinkest me as far in the devil'sbook as thou and Falstaff for obduracy andpersistency: let the end try the man. But I tellthee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is sosick: and keeping such vile company as thou arthath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow.POINSThe reason?PRINCE HENRYWhat wouldst thou think of me, if I should weep?POINSI would think thee a most princely hypocrite.PRINCE HENRYIt would be every man's thought; and thou art ablessed fellow to think as every man thinks: nevera man's thought in the world keeps the road-waybetter than thine: every man would think me anhypocrite indeed. And what accites your mostworshipful thought to think so?POINSWhy, because you have been so lewd and so muchengraffed to Falstaff.PRINCE HENRYAnd to thee.POINSBy this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear itwith my own ears: the worst that they can say ofme is that I am a second brother and that I am aproper fellow of my hands; and those two things, Iconfess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph.Enter BARDOLPH and PagePRINCE HENRYAnd the boy that I gave Falstaff: a' had him fromme Christian; and look, if the fat villain have nottransformed him ape.BARDOLPHGod save your grace!PRINCE HENRYAnd yours, most noble Bardolph!BARDOLPHCome, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must yoube blushing? wherefore blush you now? What amaidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is't such amatter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead?PageA' calls me e'en now, my lord, through a redlattice, and I could discern no part of his facefrom the window: at last I spied his eyes, andmethought he had made two holes in the ale-wife'snew petticoat and so peeped through.PRINCE HENRYHas not the boy profited?BARDOLPHAway, you whoreson upright rabbit, away!PageAway, you rascally Althaea's dream, away!PRINCE HENRYInstruct us, boy; what dream, boy?PageMarry, my lord, Althaea dreamed she was deliveredof a fire-brand; and therefore I call him her dream.PRINCE HENRYA crown's worth of good interpretation: there 'tis,boy.POINSO, that this good blossom could be kept fromcankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.BARDOLPHAn you do not make him hanged among you, thegallows shall have wrong.PRINCE HENRYAnd how doth thy master, Bardolph?BARDOLPHWell, my lord. He heard of your grace's coming totown: there's a letter for you.POINSDelivered with good respect. And how doth themartlemas, your master?BARDOLPHIn bodily health, sir.POINSMarry, the immortal part needs a physician; butthat moves not him: though that be sick, it diesnot.PRINCE HENRYI do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as mydog; and he holds his place; for look you how be writes.POINSReads 'John Falstaff, knight,'--every man mustknow that, as oft as he has occasion to namehimself: even like those that are kin to the king;for they never prick their finger but they say,'There's some of the king's blood spilt.' 'Howcomes that?' says he, that takes upon him not toconceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower'scap, 'I am the king's poor cousin, sir.'PRINCE HENRYNay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch itfrom Japhet. But to the letter.POINSReads 'Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son ofthe king, nearest his father, Harry Prince ofWales, greeting.' Why, this is a certificate.PRINCE HENRYPeace!POINSReads 'I will imitate the honourable Romans inbrevity:' he sure means brevity in breath,short-winded. 'I commend me to thee, I commendthee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar withPoins; for he misuses thy favours so much, that heswears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repentat idle times as thou mayest; and so, farewell.Thine, by yea and no, which is as much as tosay, as thou usest him, JACK FALSTAFF with myfamiliars, JOHN with my brothers and sisters,and SIR JOHN with all Europe.'My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it.PRINCE HENRYThat's to make him eat twenty of his words. But doyou use me thus, Ned? must I marry your sister?POINSGod send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so.PRINCE HENRYWell, thus we play the fools with the time, and thespirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.Is your master here in London?BARDOLPHYea, my lord.PRINCE HENRYWhere sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank?BARDOLPHAt the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap.PRINCE HENRYWhat company?PageEphesians, my lord, of the old church.PRINCE HENRYSup any women with him?PageNone, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly andMistress Doll Tearsheet.PRINCE HENRYWhat pagan may that be?PageA proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's.PRINCE HENRYEven such kin as the parish heifers are to the townbull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?POINSI am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you.PRINCE HENRYSirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to yourmaster that I am yet come to town: there's foryour silence.BARDOLPHI have no tongue, sir.PageAnd for mine, sir, I will govern it.PRINCE HENRYFare you well; go.Exeunt BARDOLPH and PageThis Doll Tearsheet should be some road.POINSI warrant you, as common as the way between SaintAlban's and London.PRINCE HENRYHow might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-nightin his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?POINSPut on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and waitupon him at his table as drawers.PRINCE HENRYFrom a God to a bull? a heavy decension! it wasJove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a lowtransformation! that shall be mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly.Follow me, Ned.ExeuntSCENE III. Warkworth. Before the castle.Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCYNORTHUMBERLANDI pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,Give even way unto my rough affairs:Put not you on the visage of the timesAnd be like them to Percy troublesome.LADY NORTHUMBERLANDI have given over, I will speak no more:Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.NORTHUMBERLANDAlas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn;And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.LADY PERCYO yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars!The time was, father, that you broke your word,When you were more endeared to it than now;When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,Threw many a northward look to see his fatherBring up his powers; but he did long in vain.Who then persuaded you to stay at home?There were two honours lost, yours and your son's.For yours, the God of heaven brighten it!For his, it stuck upon him as the sunIn the grey vault of heaven, and by his lightDid all the chivalry of England moveTo do brave acts: he was indeed the glassWherein the noble youth did dress themselves:He had no legs that practised not his gait;And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,Became the accents of the valiant;For those that could speak low and tardilyWould turn their own perfection to abuse,To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait,In diet, in affections of delight,In military rules, humours of blood,He was the mark and glass, copy and book,That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him!O miracle of men! him did you leave,Second to none, unseconded by you,To look upon the hideous god of warIn disadvantage; to abide a fieldWhere nothing but the sound of Hotspur's nameDid seem defensible: so you left him.Never, O never, do his ghost the wrongTo hold your honour more precise and niceWith others than with him! let them alone:The marshal and the archbishop are strong:Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.NORTHUMBERLANDBeshrew your heart,Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from meWith new lamenting ancient oversights.But I must go and meet with danger there,Or it will seek me in another placeAnd find me worse provided.LADY NORTHUMBERLANDO, fly to Scotland,Till that the nobles and the armed commonsHave of their puissance made a little taste.LADY PERCYIf they get ground and vantage of the king,Then join you with them, like a rib of steel,To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves,First let them try themselves. So did your son;He was so suffer'd: so came I a widow;And never shall have length of life enoughTo rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,For recordation to my noble husband.NORTHUMBERLANDCome, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mindAs with the tide swell'd up unto his height,That makes a still-stand, running neither way:Fain would I go to meet the archbishop,But many thousand reasons hold me back.I will resolve for Scotland: there am I,Till time and vantage crave my company.ExeuntSCENE IV. London. The Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap.Enter two DrawersFirst DrawerWhat the devil hast thou brought there? apple-johns?thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john.Second DrawerMass, thou sayest true. The prince once set a dishof apple-johns before him, and told him there werefive more Sir Johns, and, putting off his hat, said'I will now take my leave of these six dry, round,old, withered knights.' It angered him to theheart: but he hath forgot that.First DrawerWhy, then, cover, and set them down: and see ifthou canst find out Sneak's noise; MistressTearsheet would fain hear some music. Dispatch: theroom where they supped is too hot; they'll come in straight.Second DrawerSirrah, here will be the prince and Master Poinsanon; and they will put on two of our jerkins andaprons; and Sir John must not know of it: Bardolphhath brought word.First DrawerBy the mass, here will be old Utis: it will be anexcellent stratagem.Second DrawerI'll see if I can find out Sneak.ExitEnter MISTRESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEETMISTRESS QUICKLYI' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in anexcellent good temperality: your pulsidge beats asextraordinarily as heart would desire; and yourcolour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in goodtruth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too muchcanaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine,and it perfumes the blood ere one can say 'What'sthis?' How do you now?DOLL TEARSHEETBetter than I was: hem!MISTRESS QUICKLYWhy, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold.Lo, here comes Sir John.Enter FALSTAFFFALSTAFFSinging 'When Arthur first in court,'--Empty the jordan.Exit First DrawerSinging--'And was a worthy king.' How now, Mistress Doll!MISTRESS QUICKLYSick of a calm; yea, good faith.FALSTAFFSo is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick.DOLL TEARSHEETYou muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?FALSTAFFYou make fat rascals, Mistress Doll.DOLL TEARSHEETI make them! gluttony and diseases make them; Imake them not.FALSTAFFIf the cook help to make the gluttony, you help tomake the diseases, Doll: we catch of you, Doll, wecatch of you; grant that, my poor virtue grant that.DOLL TEARSHEETYea, joy, our chains and our jewels.FALSTAFF'Your broaches, pearls, and ouches:' for to servebravely is to come halting off, you know: to comeoff the breach with his pike bent bravely, and tosurgery bravely; to venture upon the chargedchambers bravely,--DOLL TEARSHEETHang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!MISTRESS QUICKLYBy my troth, this is the old fashion; you two nevermeet but you fall to some discord: you are both,i' good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts; youcannot one bear with another's confirmities. Whatthe good-year! one must bear, and that must beyou: you are the weaker vessel, as they say, theemptier vessel.DOLL TEARSHEETCan a weak empty vessel bear such a huge fullhogshead? there's a whole merchant's venture ofBourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulkbetter stuffed in the hold. Come, I'll be friendswith thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars; andwhether I shall ever see thee again or no, there isnobody cares.Re-enter First DrawerFirst DrawerSir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak withyou.DOLL TEARSHEETHang him, swaggering rascal! let him not comehither: it is the foul-mouthed'st rogue in England.MISTRESS QUICKLYIf he swagger, let him not come here: no, by myfaith; I must live among my neighbours: I'll noswaggerers: I am in good name and fame with thevery best: shut the door; there comes no swaggerershere: I have not lived all this while, to haveswaggering now: shut the door, I pray you.FALSTAFFDost thou hear, hostess?MISTRESS QUICKLYPray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John: there comes noswaggerers here.FALSTAFFDost thou hear? it is mine ancient.MISTRESS QUICKLYTilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me: your ancientswaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before MasterTisick, the debuty, t'other day; and, as he said tome, 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last, 'I'good faith, neighbour Quickly,' says he; MasterDumbe, our minister, was by then; 'neighbourQuickly,' says he, 'receive those that are civil;for,' said he, 'you are in an ill name:' now a'said so, I can tell whereupon; 'for,' says he, 'youare an honest woman, and well thought on; thereforetake heed what guests you receive: receive,' sayshe, 'no swaggering companions.' There comes nonehere: you would bless you to hear what he said:no, I'll no swaggerers.FALSTAFFHe's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater, i'faith; you may stroke him as gently as a puppygreyhound: he'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, ifher feathers turn back in any show of resistance.Call him up, drawer.Exit First DrawerMISTRESS QUICKLYCheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man myhouse, nor no cheater: but I do not loveswaggering, by my troth; I am the worse, when onesays swagger: feel, masters, how I shake; look you,I warrant you.DOLL TEARSHEETSo you do, hostess.MISTRESS QUICKLYDo I? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspenleaf: I cannot abide swaggerers.Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and PagePISTOLGod save you, Sir John!FALSTAFFWelcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I chargeyou with a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine hostess.PISTOLI will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.FALSTAFFShe is Pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly offendher.MISTRESS QUICKLYCome, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets: I'lldrink no more than will do me good, for no man'spleasure, I.PISTOLThen to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you.DOLL TEARSHEETCharge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What!you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linenmate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat foryour master.PISTOLI know you, Mistress Dorothy.DOLL TEARSHEETAway, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away!by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldychaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away,you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stalejuggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir? God'slight, with two points on your shoulder? much!PISTOLGod let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this.FALSTAFFNo more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here:discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.MISTRESS QUICKLYNo, Good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.DOLL TEARSHEETCaptain! thou abominable damned cheater, art thounot ashamed to be called captain? An captains wereof my mind, they would truncheon you out, fortaking their names upon you before you have earnedthem. You a captain! you slave, for what? fortearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He acaptain! hang him, rogue! he lives upon mouldystewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain! God'slight, these villains will make the word as odiousas the word 'occupy;' which was an excellent goodword before it was ill sorted: therefore captainshad need look to 't.BARDOLPHPray thee, go down, good ancient.FALSTAFFHark thee hither, Mistress Doll.PISTOLNot I I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I couldtear her: I'll be revenged of her.PagePray thee, go down.PISTOLI'll see her damned first; to Pluto's damned lake,by this hand, to the infernal deep, with Erebus andtortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I.Down, down, dogs! down, faitors! Have we notHiren here?MISTRESS QUICKLYGood Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i'faith: I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.PISTOLThese be good humours, indeed! Shall pack-horsesAnd hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,Which cannot go but thirty mile a-day,Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them withKing Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.Shall we fall foul for toys?MISTRESS QUICKLYBy my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.BARDOLPHBe gone, good ancient: this will grow to abrawl anon.PISTOLDie men like dogs! give crowns like pins! Have wenot Heren here?MISTRESS QUICKLYO' my word, captain, there's none such here. Whatthe good-year! do you think I would deny her? ForGod's sake, be quiet.PISTOLThen feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis.Come, give's some sack.'Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento.'Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire:Give me some sack: and, sweetheart, lie thou there.Laying down his swordCome we to full points here; and are etceteras nothing?FALSTAFFPistol, I would be quiet.PISTOLSweet knight, I kiss thy neaf: what! we have seenthe seven stars.DOLL TEARSHEETFor God's sake, thrust him down stairs: I cannotendure such a fustian rascal.PISTOLThrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags?FALSTAFFQuoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groatshilling: nay, an a' do nothing but speak nothing,a' shall be nothing here.BARDOLPHCome, get you down stairs.PISTOLWhat! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue?Snatching up his swordThen death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping woundsUntwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!MISTRESS QUICKLYHere's goodly stuff toward!FALSTAFFGive me my rapier, boy.DOLL TEARSHEETI pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.FALSTAFFGet you down stairs.Drawing, and driving PISTOL outMISTRESS QUICKLYHere's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keepinghouse, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights.So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put upyour naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPHDOLL TEARSHEETI pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone.Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you!MISTRESS QUICKLYHe you not hurt i' the groin? methought a' made ashrewd thrust at your belly.Re-enter BARDOLPHFALSTAFFHave you turned him out o' doors?BARDOLPHYea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him,sir, i' the shoulder.FALSTAFFA rascal! to brave me!DOLL TEARSHEETAh, you sweet little rogue, you! alas, poor ape,how thou sweatest! come, let me wipe thy face;come on, you whoreson chops: ah, rogue! i'faith, Ilove thee: thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy,worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better thanthe Nine Worthies: ah, villain!FALSTAFFA rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.DOLL TEARSHEETDo, an thou darest for thy heart: an thou dost,I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets.Enter MusicPageThe music is come, sir.FALSTAFFLet them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll.A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from melike quicksilver.DOLL TEARSHEETI' faith, and thou followedst him like a church.Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig,when wilt thou leave fighting o' days and foiningo' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS, disguisedFALSTAFFPeace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's-head;do not bid me remember mine end.DOLL TEARSHEETSirrah, what humour's the prince of?FALSTAFFA good shallow young fellow: a' would have made agood pantler, a' would ha' chipp'd bread well.DOLL TEARSHEETThey say Poins has a good wit.FALSTAFFHe a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit's as thickas Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in himthan is in a mallet.DOLL TEARSHEETWhy does the prince love him so, then?FALSTAFFBecause their legs are both of a bigness, and a'plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel,and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, andrides the wild-mare with the boys, and jumps uponjoined-stools, and swears with a good grace, andwears his boots very smooth, like unto the sign ofthe leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreetstories; and such other gambol faculties a' has,that show a weak mind and an able body, for thewhich the prince admits him: for the prince himselfis such another; the weight of a hair will turn thescales between their avoirdupois.PRINCE HENRYWould not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?POINSLet's beat him before his whore.PRINCE HENRYLook, whether the withered elder hath not his pollclawed like a parrot.POINSIs it not strange that desire should so many yearsoutlive performance?FALSTAFFKiss me, Doll.PRINCE HENRYSaturn and Venus this year in conjunction! whatsays the almanac to that?POINSAnd look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be notlisping to his master's old tables, his note-book,his counsel-keeper.FALSTAFFThou dost give me flattering busses.DOLL TEARSHEETBy my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.FALSTAFFI am old, I am old.DOLL TEARSHEETI love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy youngboy of them all.FALSTAFFWhat stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receivemoney o' Thursday: shalt have a cap to-morrow. Amerry song, come: it grows late; we'll to bed.Thou'lt forget me when I am gone.DOLL TEARSHEETBy my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping, an thousayest so: prove that ever I dress myself handsometill thy return: well, harken at the end.FALSTAFFSome sack, Francis.PRINCE HENRYPOINSAnon, anon, sir.Coming forwardFALSTAFFHa! a bastard son of the king's? And art not thouPoins his brother?PRINCE HENRYWhy, thou globe of sinful continents! what a lifedost thou lead!FALSTAFFA better than thou: I am a gentleman; thou art a drawer.PRINCE HENRYVery true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears.MISTRESS QUICKLYO, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by my troth,welcome to London. Now, the Lord bless that sweetface of thine! O, Jesu, are you come from Wales?FALSTAFFThou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this lightflesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.DOLL TEARSHEETHow, you fat fool! I scorn you.POINSMy lord, he will drive you out of your revenge andturn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat.PRINCE HENRYYou whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did youspeak of me even now before this honest, virtuous,civil gentlewoman!MISTRESS QUICKLYGod's blessing of your good heart! and so she is,by my troth.FALSTAFFDidst thou hear me?PRINCE HENRYYea, and you knew me, as you did when you ran awayby Gad's-hill: you knew I was at your back, andspoke it on purpose to try my patience.FALSTAFFNo, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing.PRINCE HENRYI shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse;and then I know how to handle you.FALSTAFFNo abuse, Hal, o' mine honour, no abuse.PRINCE HENRYNot to dispraise me, and call me pantier andbread-chipper and I know not what?FALSTAFFNo abuse, Hal.POINSNo abuse?FALSTAFFNo abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest Ned, none. Idispraised him before the wicked, that the wickedmight not fall in love with him; in which doing, Ihave done the part of a careful friend and a truesubject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it.No abuse, Hal: none, Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none.PRINCE HENRYSee now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice dothnot make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman toclose with us? is she of the wicked? is thinehostess here of the wicked? or is thy boy of thewicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in hisnose, of the wicked?POINSAnswer, thou dead elm, answer.FALSTAFFThe fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable;and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where hedoth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy,there is a good angel about him; but the deviloutbids him too.PRINCE HENRYFor the women?FALSTAFFFor one of them, she is in hell already, and burnspoor souls. For the other, I owe her money, andwhether she be damned for that, I know not.MISTRESS QUICKLYNo, I warrant you.FALSTAFFNo, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit forthat. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee,for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house,contrary to the law; for the which I think thou wilt howl.MISTRESS QUICKLYAll victuallers do so; what's a joint of mutton ortwo in a whole Lent?PRINCE HENRYYou, gentlewoman,-DOLL TEARSHEETWhat says your grace?FALSTAFFHis grace says that which his flesh rebels against.Knocking withinMISTRESS QUICKLYWho knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis.Enter PETOPRINCE HENRYPeto, how now! what news?PETOThe king your father is at Westminster:And there are twenty weak and wearied postsCome from the north: and, as I came along,I met and overtook a dozen captains,Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.PRINCE HENRYBy heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame,So idly to profane the precious time,When tempest of commotion, like the southBorne with black vapour, doth begin to meltAnd drop upon our bare unarmed heads.Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night.Exeunt PRINCE HENRY, POINS, PETO and BARDOLPHFALSTAFFNow comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, andwe must hence and leave it unpicked.Knocking withinMore knocking at the door!Re-enter BARDOLPHHow now! what's the matter?BARDOLPHYou must away to court, sir, presently;A dozen captains stay at door for you.FALSTAFFTo the Page Pay the musicians, sirrah. Farewell,hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches,how men of merit are sought after: the undeservermay sleep, when the man of action is called on.Farewell good wenches: if I be not sent away post,I will see you again ere I go.DOLL TEARSHEETI cannot speak; if my heart be not read to burst,--well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.FALSTAFFFarewell, farewell.Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPHMISTRESS QUICKLYWell, fare thee well: I have known thee thesetwenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but anhonester and truer-hearted man,--well, fare thee well.BARDOLPHWithin Mistress Tearsheet!MISTRESS QUICKLYWhat's the matter?BARDOLPHWithin Good Mistress Tearsheet, come to my master.MISTRESS QUICKLYO, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come.She comes blubberedYea, will you come, Doll?ExeuntACT IIISCENE I. Westminster. The palace.Enter KING HENRY IV in his nightgown, with a PageKING HENRY IVGo call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick;But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,And well consider of them; make good speed.Exit PageHow many thousand of my poorest subjectsAre at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids downAnd steep my senses in forgetfulness?Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,Upon uneasy pallets stretching theeAnd hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,Under the canopies of costly state,And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vileIn loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couchA watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mastSeal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brainsIn cradle of the rude imperious surgeAnd in the visitation of the winds,Who take the ruffian billows by the top,Curling their monstrous heads and hanging themWith deafening clamour in the slippery clouds,That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy reposeTo the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,And in the calmest and most stillest night,With all appliances and means to boot,Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.Enter WARWICK and SURREYWARWICKMany good morrows to your majesty!KING HENRY IVIs it good morrow, lords?WARWICK'Tis one o'clock, and past.KING HENRY IVWhy, then, good morrow to you all, my lords.Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you?WARWICKWe have, my liege.KING HENRY IVThen you perceive the body of our kingdomHow foul it is; what rank diseases growAnd with what danger, near the heart of it.WARWICKIt is but as a body yet distemper'd;Which to his former strength may be restoredWith good advice and little medicine:My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.KING HENRY IVO God! that one might read the book of fate,And see the revolution of the timesMake mountains level, and the continent,Weary of solid firmness, melt itselfInto the sea! and, other times, to seeThe beachy girdle of the oceanToo wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock,And changes fill the cup of alterationWith divers liquors! O, if this were seen,The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,What perils past, what crosses to ensue,Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.'Tis not 'ten years goneSince Richard and Northumberland, great friends,Did feast together, and in two years afterWere they at wars: it is but eight years sinceThis Percy was the man nearest my soul,Who like a brother toil'd in my affairsAnd laid his love and life under my foot,Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of RichardGave him defiance. But which of you was by--You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember--To WARWICKWhen Richard, with his eye brimful of tears,Then cheque'd and rated by Northumberland,Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy?'Northumberland, thou ladder by the whichMy cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;'Though then, God knows, I had no such intent,But that necessity so bow'd the stateThat I and greatness were compell'd to kiss:'The time shall come,' thus did he follow it,'The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,Shall break into corruption:' so went on,Foretelling this same time's conditionAnd the division of our amity.WARWICKThere is a history in all men's lives,Figuring the nature of the times deceased;The which observed, a man may prophesy,With a near aim, of the main chance of thingsAs yet not come to life, which in their seedsAnd weak beginnings lie intreasured.Such things become the hatch and brood of time;And by the necessary form of thisKing Richard might create a perfect guessThat great Northumberland, then false to him,Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness;Which should not find a ground to root upon,Unless on you.KING HENRY IVAre these things then necessities?Then let us meet them like necessities:And that same word even now cries out on us:They say the bishop and NorthumberlandAre fifty thousand strong.WARWICKIt cannot be, my lord;Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your graceTo go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord,The powers that you already have sent forthShall bring this prize in very easily.To comfort you the more, I have receivedA certain instance that Glendower is dead.Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill,And these unseason'd hours perforce must addUnto your sickness.KING HENRY IVI will take your counsel:And were these inward wars once out of hand,We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.ExeuntSCENE II. Gloucestershire. Before SHALLOW'S house.Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY,
SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, a Servant or two
with themSHALLOWCome on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand,sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, bythe rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?SILENCEGood morrow, good cousin Shallow.SHALLOWAnd how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and yourfairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?SILENCEAlas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow!SHALLOWBy yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William isbecome a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not?SILENCEIndeed, sir, to my cost.SHALLOWA' must, then, to the inns o' court shortly. I wasonce of Clement's Inn, where I think they willtalk of mad Shallow yet.SILENCEYou were called 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin.SHALLOWBy the mass, I was called any thing; and I wouldhave done any thing indeed too, and roundly too.There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire,and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, andWill Squele, a Cotswold man; you had not four suchswinge-bucklers in all the inns o' court again: andI may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas wereand had the best of them all at commandment. Thenwas Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page toThomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.SILENCEThis Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?SHALLOWThe same Sir John, the very same. I see him breakSkogan's head at the court-gate, when a' was acrack not thus high: and the very same day did Ifight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer,behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that Ihave spent! and to see how many of my oldacquaintance are dead!SILENCEWe shall all follow, cousin.SHADOWCertain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death,as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shalldie. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?SILENCEBy my troth, I was not there.SHALLOWDeath is certain. Is old Double of your town livingyet?SILENCEDead, sir.SHALLOWJesu, Jesu, dead! a' drew a good bow; and dead! a'shot a fine shoot: John a Gaunt loved him well, andbetted much money on his head. Dead! a' would haveclapped i' the clout at twelve score; and carriedyou a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and ahalf, that it would have done a man's heart good tosee. How a score of ewes now?SILENCEThereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may beworth ten pounds.SHALLOWAnd is old Double dead?SILENCEHere come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think.Enter BARDOLPH and one with himBARDOLPHGood morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, whichis Justice Shallow?SHALLOWI am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of thiscounty, and one of the king's justices of the peace:What is your good pleasure with me?BARDOLPHMy captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain,Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, anda most gallant leader.SHALLOWHe greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backswordman. How doth the good knight? may I ask how mylady his wife doth?BARDOLPHSir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated thanwith a wife.SHALLOWIt is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well saidindeed too. Better accommodated! it is good; yea,indeed, is it: good phrases are surely, and everwere, very commendable. Accommodated! it comes of'accommodo' very good; a good phrase.BARDOLPHPardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase callyou it? by this good day, I know not the phrase;but I will maintain the word with my sword to be asoldier-like word, and a word of exceeding goodcommand, by heaven. Accommodated; that is, when aman is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is,being, whereby a' may be thought to be accommodated;which is an excellent thing.SHALLOWIt is very just.Enter FALSTAFFLook, here comes good Sir John. Give me your goodhand, give me your worship's good hand: by mytroth, you like well and bear your years very well:welcome, good Sir John.FALSTAFFI am glad to see you well, good Master RobertShallow: Master Surecard, as I think?SHALLOWNo, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.FALSTAFFGood Master Silence, it well befits you should be ofthe peace.SILENCEYour good-worship is welcome.FALSTAFFFie! this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have youprovided me here half a dozen sufficient men?SHALLOWMarry, have we, sir. Will you sit?FALSTAFFLet me see them, I beseech you.SHALLOWWhere's the roll? where's the roll? where's theroll? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so:yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy! Let them appear asI call; let them do so, let them do so. Let mesee; where is Mouldy?MOULDYHere, an't please you.SHALLOWWhat think you, Sir John? a good-limbed fellow;young, strong, and of good friends.FALSTAFFIs thy name Mouldy?MOULDYYea, an't please you.FALSTAFF'Tis the more time thou wert used.SHALLOWHa, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! Things thatare mouldy lack use: very singular good! in faith,well said, Sir John, very well said.FALSTAFFPrick him.MOULDYI was pricked well enough before, an you could havelet me alone: my old dame will be undone now forone to do her husbandry and her drudgery: you neednot to have pricked me; there are other men fitterto go out than I.FALSTAFFGo to: peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it istime you were spent.MOULDYSpent!SHALLOWPeace, fellow, peace; stand aside: know you whereyou are? For the other, Sir John: let me see:Simon Shadow!FALSTAFFYea, marry, let me have him to sit under: he's liketo be a cold soldier.SHALLOWWhere's Shadow?SHADOWHere, sir.FALSTAFFShadow, whose son art thou?SHADOWMy mother's son, sir.FALSTAFFThy mother's son! like enough, and thy father'sshadow: so the son of the female is the shadow ofthe male: it is often so, indeed; but much of thefather's substance!SHALLOWDo you like him, Sir John?FALSTAFFShadow will serve for summer; prick him, for we havea number of shadows to fill up the muster-book.SHALLOWThomas Wart!FALSTAFFWhere's he?WARTHere, sir.FALSTAFFIs thy name Wart?WARTYea, sir.FALSTAFFThou art a very ragged wart.SHALLOWShall I prick him down, Sir John?FALSTAFFIt were superfluous; for his apparel is built uponhis back and the whole frame stands upon pins:prick him no more.SHALLOWHa, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you can do it: Icommend you well. Francis Feeble!FEEBLEHere, sir.FALSTAFFWhat trade art thou, Feeble?FEEBLEA woman's tailor, sir.SHALLOWShall I prick him, sir?FALSTAFFYou may: but if he had been a man's tailor, he'ldha' pricked you. Wilt thou make as many holes inan enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?FEEBLEI will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.FALSTAFFWell said, good woman's tailor! well said,courageous Feeble! thou wilt be as valiant as thewrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick thewoman's tailor: well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow.FEEBLEI would Wart might have gone, sir.FALSTAFFI would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightstmend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put himto a private soldier that is the leader of so manythousands: let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.FEEBLEIt shall suffice, sir.FALSTAFFI am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?SHALLOWPeter Bullcalf o' the green!FALSTAFFYea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.BULLCALFHere, sir.FALSTAFF'Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalftill he roar again.BULLCALFO Lord! good my lord captain,--FALSTAFFWhat, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?BULLCALFO Lord, sir! I am a diseased man.FALSTAFFWhat disease hast thou?BULLCALFA whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caughtwith ringing in the king's affairs upon hiscoronation-day, sir.FALSTAFFCome, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown; we wilthave away thy cold; and I will take such order thatmy friends shall ring for thee. Is here all?SHALLOWHere is two more called than your number, you musthave but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go inwith me to dinner.FALSTAFFCome, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarrydinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.SHALLOWO, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all nightin the windmill in Saint George's field?FALSTAFFNo more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that.SHALLOWHa! 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive?FALSTAFFShe lives, Master Shallow.SHALLOWShe never could away with me.FALSTAFFNever, never; she would always say she could notabide Master Shallow.SHALLOWBy the mass, I could anger her to the heart. Shewas then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?FALSTAFFOld, old, Master Shallow.SHALLOWNay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old;certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork by oldNightwork before I came to Clement's Inn.SILENCEThat's fifty-five year ago.SHALLOWHa, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that thatthis knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?FALSTAFFWe have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.SHALLOWThat we have, that we have, that we have; in faith,Sir John, we have: our watch-word was 'Hem boys!'Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to dinner:Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come.Exeunt FALSTAFF and JusticesBULLCALFGood Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend;and here's four Harry ten shillings in French crownsfor you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief behanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own part, sir,I do not care; but rather, because I am unwilling,and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay withmy friends; else, sir, I did not care, for mine ownpart, so much.BARDOLPHGo to; stand aside.MOULDYAnd, good master corporal captain, for my olddame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to doany thing about her when I am gone; and she is old,and cannot help herself: You shall have forty, sir.BARDOLPHGo to; stand aside.FEEBLEBy my troth, I care not; a man can die but once: weowe God a death: I'll ne'er bear a base mind:an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: no man istoo good to serve's prince; and let it go which wayit will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.BARDOLPHWell said; thou'rt a good fellow.FEEBLEFaith, I'll bear no base mind.Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JusticesFALSTAFFCome, sir, which men shall I have?SHALLOWFour of which you please.BARDOLPHSir, a word with you: I have three pound to freeMouldy and Bullcalf.FALSTAFFGo to; well.SHALLOWCome, Sir John, which four will you have?FALSTAFFDo you choose for me.SHALLOWMarry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble and Shadow.FALSTAFFMouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at hometill you are past service: and for your part,Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it: I will none of you.SHALLOWSir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they areyour likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.FALSTAFFWill you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose aman? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature,bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me thespirit, Master Shallow. Here's Wart; you see what aragged appearance it is; a' shall charge you anddischarge you with the motion of a pewterer'shammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbetson the brewer's bucket. And this same half-facedfellow, Shadow; give me this man: he presents nomark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aimlevel at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat;how swiftly will this Feeble the woman's tailor runoff! O, give me the spare men, and spare me thegreat ones. Put me a caliver into Wart's hand, Bardolph.BARDOLPHHold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus.FALSTAFFCome, manage me your caliver. So: very well: goto: very good, exceeding good. O, give me always alittle, lean, old, chapt, bald shot. Well said, i'faith, Wart; thou'rt a good scab: hold, there's atester for thee.SHALLOWHe is not his craft's master; he doth not do itright. I remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay atClement's Inn--I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur'sshow,--there was a little quiver fellow, and a'would manage you his piece thus; and a' would aboutand about, and come you in and come you in: 'rah,tah, tah,' would a' say; 'bounce' would a' say; andaway again would a' go, and again would a' come: Ishall ne'er see such a fellow.FALSTAFFThese fellows will do well, Master Shallow. Godkeep you, Master Silence: I will not use many wordswith you. Fare you well, gentlemen both: I thankyou: I must a dozen mile to-night. Bardolph, givethe soldiers coats.SHALLOWSir John, the Lord bless you! God prosper youraffairs! God send us peace! At your return visitour house; let our old acquaintance be renewed;peradventure I will with ye to the court.FALSTAFF'Fore God, I would you would, Master Shallow.SHALLOWGo to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you.FALSTAFFFare you well, gentle gentlemen.Exeunt JusticesOn, Bardolph; lead the men away.Exeunt BARDOLPH, Recruits, &cAs I return, I will fetch off these justices: I dosee the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, howsubject we old men are to this vice of lying! Thissame starved justice hath done nothing but prate tome of the wildness of his youth, and the feats hehath done about Turnbull Street: and every thirdword a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk'stribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn like aman made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a'was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forkedradish, with a head fantastically carved upon itwith a knife: a' was so forlorn, that hisdimensions to any thick sight were invincible: a'was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as amonkey, and the whores called him mandrake: a' cameever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung thosetunes to the overscutched huswives that he heard thecarmen whistle, and swear they were his fancies orhis good-nights. And now is this Vice's daggerbecome a squire, and talks as familiarly of John aGaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him; andI'll be sworn a' ne'er saw him but once in theTilt-yard; and then he burst his head for crowdingamong the marshal's men. I saw it, and told John aGaunt he beat his own name; for you might havethrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin; thecase of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, acourt: and now has he land and beefs. Well, I'llbe acquainted with him, if I return; and it shallgo hard but I will make him a philosopher's twostones to me: if the young dace be a bait for theold pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but Imay snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.ExitACT IVSCENE I. Yorkshire. Gaultree Forest.Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, LORD
HASTINGS, and othersARCHBISHOP OF YORKWhat is this forest call'd?HASTINGS'Tis Gaultree Forest, an't shall please your grace.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKHere stand, my lords; and send discoverers forthTo know the numbers of our enemies.HASTINGSWe have sent forth already.ARCHBISHOP OF YORK'Tis well done.My friends and brethren in these great affairs,I must acquaint you that I have receivedNew-dated letters from Northumberland;Their cold intent, tenor and substance, thus:Here doth he wish his person, with such powersAs might hold sortance with his quality,The which he could not levy; whereuponHe is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes,To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayersThat your attempts may overlive the hazardAnd fearful melting of their opposite.MOWBRAYThus do the hopes we have in him touch groundAnd dash themselves to pieces.Enter a MessengerHASTINGSNow, what news?MessengerWest of this forest, scarcely off a mile,In goodly form comes on the enemy;And, by the ground they hide, I judge their numberUpon or near the rate of thirty thousand.MOWBRAYThe just proportion that we gave them outLet us sway on and face them in the field.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKWhat well-appointed leader fronts us here?Enter WESTMORELANDMOWBRAYI think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.WESTMORELANDHealth and fair greeting from our general,The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKSay on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace:What doth concern your coming?WESTMORELANDThen, my lord,Unto your grace do I in chief addressThe substance of my speech. If that rebellionCame like itself, in base and abject routs,Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags,And countenanced by boys and beggary,I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd,In his true, native and most proper shape,You, reverend father, and these noble lordsHad not been here, to dress the ugly formOf base and bloody insurrectionWith your fair honours. You, lord archbishop,Whose see is by a civil peace maintained,Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd,Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd,Whose white investments figure innocence,The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,Wherefore do you so ill translate ourselfOut of the speech of peace that bears such grace,Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war;Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,Your pens to lances and your tongue divineTo a trumpet and a point of war?ARCHBISHOP OF YORKWherefore do I this? so the question stands.Briefly to this end: we are all diseased,And with our surfeiting and wanton hoursHave brought ourselves into a burning fever,And we must bleed for it; of which diseaseOur late king, Richard, being infected, died.But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland,I take not on me here as a physician,Nor do I as an enemy to peaceTroop in the throngs of military men;But rather show awhile like fearful war,To diet rank minds sick of happinessAnd purge the obstructions which begin to stopOur very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.I have in equal balance justly weigh'dWhat wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,And find our griefs heavier than our offences.We see which way the stream of time doth run,And are enforced from our most quiet thereBy the rough torrent of occasion;And have the summary of all our griefs,When time shall serve, to show in articles;Which long ere this we offer'd to the king,And might by no suit gain our audience:When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs,We are denied access unto his personEven by those men that most have done us wrong.The dangers of the days but newly gone,Whose memory is written on the earthWith yet appearing blood, and the examplesOf every minute's instance, present now,Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms,Not to break peace or any branch of it,But to establish here a peace indeed,Concurring both in name and quality.WESTMORELANDWhen ever yet was your appeal denied?Wherein have you been galled by the king?What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you,That you should seal this lawless bloody bookOf forged rebellion with a seal divineAnd consecrate commotion's bitter edge?ARCHBISHOP OF YORKMy brother general, the commonwealth,To brother born an household cruelty,I make my quarrel in particular.WESTMORELANDThere is no need of any such redress;Or if there were, it not belongs to you.MOWBRAYWhy not to him in part, and to us allThat feel the bruises of the days before,And suffer the condition of these timesTo lay a heavy and unequal handUpon our honours?WESTMORELANDO, my good Lord Mowbray,Construe the times to their necessities,And you shall say indeed, it is the time,And not the king, that doth you injuries.Yet for your part, it not appears to meEither from the king or in the present timeThat you should have an inch of any groundTo build a grief on: were you not restoredTo all the Duke of Norfolk's signories,Your noble and right well remember'd father's?MOWBRAYWhat thing, in honour, had my father lost,That need to be revived and breathed in me?The king that loved him, as the state stood then,Was force perforce compell'd to banish him:And then that Harry Bolingbroke and he,Being mounted and both roused in their seats,Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down,Their eyes of fire sparking through sights of steelAnd the loud trumpet blowing them together,Then, then, when there was nothing could have stay'dMy father from the breast of Bolingbroke,O when the king did throw his warder down,His own life hung upon the staff he threw;Then threw he down himself and all their livesThat by indictment and by dint of swordHave since miscarried under Bolingbroke.WESTMORELANDYou speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what.The Earl of Hereford was reputed thenIn England the most valiant gentlemen:Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled?But if your father had been victor there,He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry:For all the country in a general voiceCried hate upon him; and all their prayers and loveWere set on Hereford, whom they doted onAnd bless'd and graced indeed, more than the king.But this is mere digression from my purpose.Here come I from our princely generalTo know your griefs; to tell you from his graceThat he will give you audience; and whereinIt shall appear that your demands are just,You shall enjoy them, every thing set offThat might so much as think you enemies.MOWBRAYBut he hath forced us to compel this offer;And it proceeds from policy, not love.WESTMORELANDMowbray, you overween to take it so;This offer comes from mercy, not from fear:For, lo! within a ken our army lies,Upon mine honour, all too confidentTo give admittance to a thought of fear.Our battle is more full of names than yours,Our men more perfect in the use of arms,Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;Then reason will our heart should be as goodSay you not then our offer is compell'd.MOWBRAYWell, by my will we shall admit no parley.WESTMORELANDThat argues but the shame of your offence:A rotten case abides no handling.HASTINGSHath the Prince John a full commission,In very ample virtue of his father,To hear and absolutely to determineOf what conditions we shall stand upon?WESTMORELANDThat is intended in the general's name:I muse you make so slight a question.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKThen take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule,For this contains our general grievances:Each several article herein redress'd,All members of our cause, both here and hence,That are insinew'd to this action,Acquitted by a true substantial formAnd present execution of our willsTo us and to our purposes confined,We come within our awful banks againAnd knit our powers to the arm of peace.WESTMORELANDThis will I show the general. Please you, lords,In sight of both our battles we may meet;And either end in peace, which God so frame!Or to the place of difference call the swordsWhich must decide it.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKMy lord, we will do so.Exit WESTMORELANDMOWBRAYThere is a thing within my bosom tells meThat no conditions of our peace can stand.HASTINGSFear you not that: if we can make our peaceUpon such large terms and so absoluteAs our conditions shall consist upon,Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.MOWBRAYYea, but our valuation shall be suchThat every slight and false-derived cause,Yea, every idle, nice and wanton reasonShall to the king taste of this action;That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love,We shall be winnow'd with so rough a windThat even our corn shall seem as light as chaffAnd good from bad find no partition.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKNo, no, my lord. Note this; the king is wearyOf dainty and such picking grievances:For he hath found to end one doubt by deathRevives two greater in the heirs of life,And therefore will he wipe his tables cleanAnd keep no tell-tale to his memoryThat may repeat and history his lossTo new remembrance; for full well he knowsHe cannot so precisely weed this landAs his misdoubts present occasion:His foes are so enrooted with his friendsThat, plucking to unfix an enemy,He doth unfasten so and shake a friend:So that this land, like an offensive wifeThat hath enraged him on to offer strokes,As he is striking, holds his infant upAnd hangs resolved correction in the armThat was uprear'd to execution.HASTINGSBesides, the king hath wasted all his rodsOn late offenders, that he now doth lackThe very instruments of chastisement:So that his power, like to a fangless lion,May offer, but not hold.ARCHBISHOP OF YORK'Tis very true:And therefore be assured, my good lord marshal,If we do now make our atonement well,Our peace will, like a broken limb united,Grow stronger for the breaking.MOWBRAYBe it so.Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland.Re-enter WESTMORELANDWESTMORELANDThe prince is here at hand: pleaseth your lordshipTo meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies.MOWBRAYYour grace of York, in God's name then, set forward.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKBefore, and greet his grace: my lord, we come.ExeuntSCENE II. Another part of the forest.Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, attended; afterwards
the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, HASTINGS, and others: from
the other side, Prince John of LANCASTER, and
WESTMORELAND; Officers, and others with themLANCASTERYou are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray:Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop;And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all.My Lord of York, it better show'd with youWhen that your flock, assembled by the bell,Encircled you to hear with reverenceYour exposition on the holy textThan now to see you here an iron man,Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,Turning the word to sword and life to death.That man that sits within a monarch's heart,And ripens in the sunshine of his favour,Would he abuse the countenance of the king,Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroochIn shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop,It is even so. Who hath not heard it spokenHow deep you were within the books of God?To us the speaker in his parliament;To us the imagined voice of God himself;The very opener and intelligencerBetween the grace, the sanctities of heavenAnd our dull workings. O, who shall believeBut you misuse the reverence of your place,Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,As a false favourite doth his prince's name,In deeds dishonourable? You have ta'en up,Under the counterfeited zeal of God,The subjects of his substitute, my father,And both against the peace of heaven and himHave here up-swarm'd them.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKGood my Lord of Lancaster,I am not here against your father's peace;But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland,The time misorder'd doth, in common sense,Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form,To hold our safety up. I sent your graceThe parcels and particulars of our grief,The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court,Whereon this Hydra son of war is born;Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleepWith grant of our most just and right desires,And true obedience, of this madness cured,Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.MOWBRAYIf not, we ready are to try our fortunesTo the last man.HASTINGSAnd though we here fall down,We have supplies to second our attempt:If they miscarry, theirs shall second them;And so success of mischief shall be bornAnd heir from heir shall hold this quarrel upWhiles England shall have generation.LANCASTERYou are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow,To sound the bottom of the after-times.WESTMORELANDPleaseth your grace to answer them directlyHow far forth you do like their articles.LANCASTERI like them all, and do allow them well,And swear here, by the honour of my blood,My father's purposes have been mistook,And some about him have too lavishlyWrested his meaning and authority.My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you,Discharge your powers unto their several counties,As we will ours: and here between the armiesLet's drink together friendly and embrace,That all their eyes may bear those tokens homeOf our restored love and amity.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKI take your princely word for these redresses.LANCASTERI give it you, and will maintain my word:And thereupon I drink unto your grace.HASTINGSGo, captain, and deliver to the armyThis news of peace: let them have pay, and part:I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain.Exit OfficerARCHBISHOP OF YORKTo you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland.WESTMORELANDI pledge your grace; and, if you knew what painsI have bestow'd to breed this present peace,You would drink freely: but my love to yeShall show itself more openly hereafter.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKI do not doubt you.WESTMORELANDI am glad of it.Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray.MOWBRAYYou wish me health in very happy season;For I am, on the sudden, something ill.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKAgainst ill chances men are ever merry;But heaviness foreruns the good event.WESTMORELANDTherefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrowServes to say thus, 'some good thing comesto-morrow.'ARCHBISHOP OF YORKBelieve me, I am passing light in spirit.MOWBRAYSo much the worse, if your own rule be true.Shouts withinLANCASTERThe word of peace is render'd: hark, how they shout!MOWBRAYThis had been cheerful after victory.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKA peace is of the nature of a conquest;For then both parties nobly are subdued,And neither party loser.LANCASTERGo, my lord,And let our army be discharged too.Exit WESTMORELANDAnd, good my lord, so please you, let our trainsMarch, by us, that we may peruse the menWe should have coped withal.ARCHBISHOP OF YORKGo, good Lord Hastings,And, ere they be dismissed, let them march by.Exit HASTINGSLANCASTERI trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together.Re-enter WESTMORELANDNow, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?WESTMORELANDThe leaders, having charge from you to stand,Will not go off until they hear you speak.LANCASTERThey know their duties.Re-enter HASTINGSHASTINGSMy lord, our army is dispersed already;Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their coursesEast, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up,Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place.WESTMORELANDGood tidings, my Lord Hastings; for the whichI do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:And you, lord archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray,Of capitol treason I attach you both.MOWBRAYIs this proceeding just and honourable?WESTMORELANDIs your assembly so?ARCHBISHOP OF YORKWill you thus break your faith?LANCASTERI pawn'd thee none:I promised you redress of these same grievancesWhereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,I will perform with a most Christian care.But for you, rebels, look to taste the dueMeet for rebellion and such acts as yours.Most shallowly did you these arms commence,Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence.Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray:God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day.Some guard these traitors to the block of death,Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.ExeuntSCENE III. Another part of the forest.Alarum. Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meetingFALSTAFFWhat's your name, sir? of what condition are you,and of what place, I pray?COLEVILEI am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the dale.FALSTAFFWell, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is yourdegree, and your place the dale: Colevile shall bestill your name, a traitor your degree, and thedungeon your place, a place deep enough; so shallyou be still Colevile of the dale.COLEVILEAre not you Sir John Falstaff?FALSTAFFAs good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do yeyield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? if I dosweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and theyweep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear andtrembling, and do observance to my mercy.COLEVILEI think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in thatthought yield me.FALSTAFFI have a whole school of tongues in this belly ofmine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any otherword but my name. An I had but a belly of anyindifference, I were simply the most active fellowin Europe: my womb, my womb, my womb, undoes me.Here comes our general.Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND,
BLUNT, and othersLANCASTERThe heat is past; follow no further now:Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.Exit WESTMORELANDNow, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?When every thing is ended, then you come:These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,One time or other break some gallows' back.FALSTAFFI would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: Inever knew yet but rebuke and cheque was the rewardof valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or abullet? have I, in my poor and old motion, theexpedition of thought? I have speeded hither withthe very extremest inch of possibility; I havefoundered nine score and odd posts: and here,travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure andimmaculate valour, taken Sir John Colevile of thedale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy.But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that Imay justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome,'I came, saw, and overcame.'LANCASTERIt was more of his courtesy than your deserving.FALSTAFFI know not: here he is, and here I yield him: andI beseech your grace, let it be booked with therest of this day's deeds; or, by the Lord, I willhave it in a particular ballad else, with mine ownpicture on the top on't, Colevile kissing my foot:to the which course if I be enforced, if you do notall show like gilt twopences to me, and I in theclear sky of fame o'ershine you as much as the fullmoon doth the cinders of the element, which showlike pins' heads to her, believe not the word ofthe noble: therefore let me have right, and letdesert mount.LANCASTERThine's too heavy to mount.FALSTAFFLet it shine, then.LANCASTERThine's too thick to shine.FALSTAFFLet it do something, my good lord, that may do megood, and call it what you will.LANCASTERIs thy name Colevile?COLEVILEIt is, my lord.LANCASTERA famous rebel art thou, Colevile.FALSTAFFAnd a famous true subject took him.COLEVILEI am, my lord, but as my betters areThat led me hither: had they been ruled by me,You should have won them dearer than you have.FALSTAFFI know not how they sold themselves: but thou, likea kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and Ithank thee for thee.Re-enter WESTMORELANDLANCASTERNow, have you left pursuit?WESTMORELANDRetreat is made and execution stay'd.LANCASTERSend Colevile with his confederatesTo York, to present execution:Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure.Exeunt BLUNT and others with COLEVILEAnd now dispatch we toward the court, my lords:I hear the king my father is sore sick:Our news shall go before us to his majesty,Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him,And we with sober speed will follow you.FALSTAFFMy lord, I beseech you, give me leave to goThrough Gloucestershire: and, when you come to court,Stand my good lord, pray, in your good report.LANCASTERFare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition,Shall better speak of you than you deserve.Exeunt all but FalstaffFALSTAFFI would you had but the wit: 'twere better thanyour dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot makehim laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine.There's never none of these demure boys come to anyproof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood,and making many fish-meals, that they fall into akind of male green-sickness; and then when theymarry, they get wenches: they are generally foolsand cowards; which some of us should be too, but forinflammation. A good sherris sack hath a two-foldoperation in it. It ascends me into the brain;dries me there all the foolish and dull and curdyvapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive,quick, forgetive, full of nimble fiery anddelectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to thevoice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomesexcellent wit. The second property of yourexcellent sherris is, the warming of the blood;which, before cold and settled, left the liverwhite and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimityand cowardice; but the sherris warms it and makesit course from the inwards to the parts extreme:it illumineth the face, which as a beacon giveswarning to all the rest of this little kingdom,man, to arm; and then the vital commoners andinland petty spirits muster me all to their captain,the heart, who, great and puffed up with thisretinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valourcomes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon isnothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; andlearning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, tillsack commences it and sets it in act and use.Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; forthe cold blood he did naturally inherit of hisfather, he hath, like lean, sterile and bare land,manured, husbanded and tilled with excellentendeavour of drinking good and good store of fertilesherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. IfI had a thousand sons, the first humane principle Iwould teach them should be, to forswear thinpotations and to addict themselves to sack.Enter BARDOLPHHow now Bardolph?BARDOLPHThe army is discharged all and gone.FALSTAFFLet them go. I'll through Gloucestershire; andthere will I visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire:I have him already tempering between my finger andmy thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away.ExeuntSCENE IV. Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber.Enter KING HENRY IV, the Princes Thomas of CLARENCE
and Humphrey of GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and othersKING HENRY IVNow, lords, if God doth give successful endTo this debate that bleedeth at our doors,We will our youth lead on to higher fieldsAnd draw no swords but what are sanctified.Our navy is address'd, our power collected,Our substitutes in absence well invested,And every thing lies level to our wish:Only, we want a little personal strength;And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,Come underneath the yoke of government.WARWICKBoth which we doubt not but your majestyShall soon enjoy.KING HENRY IVHumphrey, my son of Gloucester,Where is the prince your brother?GLOUCESTERI think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.KING HENRY IVAnd how accompanied?GLOUCESTERI do not know, my lord.KING HENRY IVIs not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him?GLOUCESTERNo, my good lord; he is in presence here.CLARENCEWhat would my lord and father?KING HENRY IVNothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother?He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;Thou hast a better place in his affectionThan all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy,And noble offices thou mayst effectOf mediation, after I am dead,Between his greatness and thy other brethren:Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love,Nor lose the good advantage of his graceBy seeming cold or careless of his will;For he is gracious, if he be observed:He hath a tear for pity and a handOpen as day for melting charity:Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint,As humorous as winter and as suddenAs flaws congealed in the spring of day.His temper, therefore, must be well observed:Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,When thou perceive his blood inclined to mirth;But, being moody, give him line and scope,Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,That the united vessel of their blood,Mingled with venom of suggestion--As, force perforce, the age will pour it in--Shall never leak, though it do work as strongAs aconitum or rash gunpowder.CLARENCEI shall observe him with all care and love.KING HENRY IVWhy art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?CLARENCEHe is not there to-day; he dines in London.KING HENRY IVAnd how accompanied? canst thou tell that?CLARENCEWith Poins, and other his continual followers.KING HENRY IVMost subject is the fattest soil to weeds;And he, the noble image of my youth,Is overspread with them: therefore my griefStretches itself beyond the hour of death:The blood weeps from my heart when I do shapeIn forms imaginary the unguided daysAnd rotten times that you shall look uponWhen I am sleeping with my ancestors.For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,When means and lavish manners meet together,O, with what wings shall his affections flyTowards fronting peril and opposed decay!WARWICKMy gracious lord, you look beyond him quite:The prince but studies his companionsLike a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language,'Tis needful that the most immodest wordBe look'd upon and learn'd; which once attain'd,Your highness knows, comes to no further useBut to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,The prince will in the perfectness of timeCast off his followers; and their memoryShall as a pattern or a measure live,By which his grace must mete the lives of others,Turning past evils to advantages.KING HENRY IV'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her combIn the dead carrion.Enter WESTMORELANDWho's here? Westmoreland?WESTMORELANDHealth to my sovereign, and new happinessAdded to that that I am to deliver!Prince John your son doth kiss your grace's hand:Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and allAre brought to the correction of your law;There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'dBut peace puts forth her olive every where.The manner how this action hath been borneHere at more leisure may your highness read,With every course in his particular.KING HENRY IVO Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,Which ever in the haunch of winter singsThe lifting up of day.Enter HARCOURTLook, here's more news.HARCOURTFrom enemies heaven keep your majesty;And, when they stand against you, may they fallAs those that I am come to tell you of!The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph,With a great power of English and of ScotsAre by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown:The manner and true order of the fightThis packet, please it you, contains at large.KING HENRY IVAnd wherefore should these good news make me sick?Will fortune never come with both hands full,But write her fair words still in foulest letters?She either gives a stomach and no food;Such are the poor, in health; or else a feastAnd takes away the stomach; such are the rich,That have abundance and enjoy it not.I should rejoice now at this happy news;And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy:O me! come near me; now I am much ill.GLOUCESTERComfort, your majesty!CLARENCEO my royal father!WESTMORELANDMy sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.WARWICKBe patient, princes; you do know, these fitsAre with his highness very ordinary.Stand from him. Give him air; he'll straight be well.CLARENCENo, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs:The incessant care and labour of his mindHath wrought the mure that should confine it inSo thin that life looks through and will break out.GLOUCESTERThe people fear me; for they do observeUnfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature:The seasons change their manners, as the yearHad found some months asleep and leap'd them over.CLARENCEThe river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between;And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,Say it did so a little time beforeThat our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.WARWICKSpeak lower, princes, for the king recovers.GLOUCESTERThis apoplexy will certain be his end.KING HENRY IVI pray you, take me up, and bear me henceInto some other chamber: softly, pray.SCENE V. Another chamber.KING HENRY IV lying on a bed: CLARENCE,
GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others in attendanceKING HENRY IVLet there be no noise made, my gentle friends;Unless some dull and favourable handWill whisper music to my weary spirit.WARWICKCall for the music in the other room.KING HENRY IVSet me the crown upon my pillow here.CLARENCEHis eye is hollow, and he changes much.WARWICKLess noise, less noise!Enter PRINCE HENRYPRINCE HENRYWho saw the Duke of Clarence?CLARENCEI am here, brother, full of heaviness.PRINCE HENRYHow now! rain within doors, and none abroad!How doth the king?GLOUCESTERExceeding ill.PRINCE HENRYHeard he the good news yet?Tell it him.GLOUCESTERHe alter'd much upon the hearing it.PRINCE HENRYIf he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic.WARWICKNot so much noise, my lords: sweet prince,speak low;The king your father is disposed to sleep.CLARENCELet us withdraw into the other room.WARWICKWill't please your grace to go along with us?PRINCE HENRYNo; I will sit and watch here by the king.Exeunt all but PRINCE HENRYWhy doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,Being so troublesome a bedfellow?O polish'd perturbation! golden care!That keep'st the ports of slumber open wideTo many a watchful night! sleep with it now!Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweetAs he whose brow with homely biggen boundSnores out the watch of night. O majesty!When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sitLike a rich armour worn in heat of day,That scalds with safety. By his gates of breathThere lies a downy feather which stirs not:Did he suspire, that light and weightless downPerforce must move. My gracious lord! my father!This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleepThat from this golden rigol hath divorcedSo many English kings. Thy due from meIs tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:My due from thee is this imperial crown,Which, as immediate as thy place and blood,Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,Which God shall guard: and put the world's whole strengthInto one giant arm, it shall not forceThis lineal honour from me: this from theeWill I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.ExitKING HENRY IVWarwick! Gloucester! Clarence!Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the restCLARENCEDoth the king call?WARWICKWhat would your majesty? How fares your grace?KING HENRY IVWhy did you leave me here alone, my lords?CLARENCEWe left the prince my brother here, my liege,Who undertook to sit and watch by you.KING HENRY IVThe Prince of Wales! Where is he? let me see him:He is not here.WARWICKThis door is open; he is gone this way.GLOUCESTERHe came not through the chamber where we stay'd.KING HENRY IVWhere is the crown? who took it from my pillow?WARWICKWhen we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.KING HENRY IVThe prince hath ta'en it hence: go, seek him out.Is he so hasty that he doth supposeMy sleep my death?Find him, my Lord of Warwick; chide him hither.Exit WARWICKThis part of his conjoins with my disease,And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are!How quickly nature falls into revoltWhen gold becomes her object!For this the foolish over-careful fathersHave broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care,Their bones with industry;For this they have engrossed and piled upThe canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;For this they have been thoughtful to investTheir sons with arts and martial exercises:When, like the bee, culling from every flowerThe virtuous sweets,Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees,Are murdered for our pains. This bitter tasteYield his engrossments to the ending father.Re-enter WARWICKNow, where is he that will not stay so longTill his friend sickness hath determined me?WARWICKMy lord, I found the prince in the next room,Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,With such a deep demeanor in great sorrowThat tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knifeWith gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.KING HENRY IVBut wherefore did he take away the crown?Re-enter PRINCE HENRYLo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry.Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.Exeunt WARWICK and the restPRINCE HENRYI never thought to hear you speak again.KING HENRY IVThy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chairThat thou wilt needs invest thee with my honoursBefore thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!Thou seek'st the greatness that will o'erwhelm thee.Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignityIs held from falling with so weak a windThat it will quickly drop: my day is dim.Thou hast stolen that which after some few hoursWere thine without offence; and at my deathThou hast seal'd up my expectation:Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not,And thou wilt have me die assured of it.Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,To stab at half an hour of my life.What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour?Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,And bid the merry bells ring to thine earThat thou art crowned, not that I am dead.Let all the tears that should bedew my hearseBe drops of balm to sanctify thy head:Only compound me with forgotten dustGive that which gave thee life unto the worms.Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;For now a time is come to mock at form:Harry the Fifth is crown'd: up, vanity!Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!And to the English court assemble now,From every region, apes of idleness!Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum:Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,Revel the night, rob, murder, and commitThe oldest sins the newest kind of ways?Be happy, he will trouble you no more;England shall double gild his treble guilt,England shall give him office, honour, might;For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucksThe muzzle of restraint, and the wild dogShall flesh his tooth on every innocent.O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!When that my care could not withhold thy riots,What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!PRINCE HENRYO, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears,The moist impediments unto my speech,I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebukeEre you with grief had spoke and I had heardThe course of it so far. There is your crown;And He that wears the crown immortallyLong guard it yours! If I affect it moreThan as your honour and as your renown,Let me no more from this obedience rise,Which my most inward true and duteous spiritTeacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending.God witness with me, when I here came in,And found no course of breath within your majesty,How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign,O, let me in my present wildness dieAnd never live to show the incredulous worldThe noble change that I have purposed!Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,I spake unto this crown as having sense,And thus upbraided it: 'The care on thee dependingHath fed upon the body of my father;Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold:Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,Preserving life in medicine potable;But thou, most fine, most honour'd: most renown'd,Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege,Accusing it, I put it on my head,To try with it, as with an enemyThat had before my face murder'd my father,The quarrel of a true inheritor.But if it did infect my blood with joy,Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride;If any rebel or vain spirit of mineDid with the least affection of a welcomeGive entertainment to the might of it,Let God for ever keep it from my headAnd make me as the poorest vassal isThat doth with awe and terror kneel to it!KING HENRY IVO my son,God put it in thy mind to take it hence,That thou mightst win the more thy father's love,Pleading so wisely in excuse of it!Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;And hear, I think, the very latest counselThat ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son,By what by-paths and indirect crook'd waysI met this crown; and I myself know wellHow troublesome it sat upon my head.To thee it shall descend with bitter quiet,Better opinion, better confirmation;For all the soil of the achievement goesWith me into the earth. It seem'd in meBut as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand,And I had many living to upbraidMy gain of it by their assistances;Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fearsThou see'st with peril I have answered;For all my reign hath been but as a sceneActing that argument: and now my deathChanges the mode; for what in me was purchased,Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;So thou the garland wear'st successively.Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends,Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out;By whose fell working I was first advancedAnd by whose power I well might lodge a fearTo be again displaced: which to avoid,I cut them off; and had a purpose nowTo lead out many to the Holy Land,Lest rest and lying still might make them lookToo near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,Be it thy course to busy giddy mindsWith foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,May waste the memory of the former days.More would I, but my lungs are wasted soThat strength of speech is utterly denied me.How I came by the crown, O God forgive;And grant it may with thee in true peace live!PRINCE HENRYMy gracious liege,You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;Then plain and right must my possession be:Which I with more than with a common pain'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.Enter Lord John of LANCASTERKING HENRY IVLook, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.LANCASTERHealth, peace, and happiness to my royal father!KING HENRY IVThou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John;But health, alack, with youthful wings is flownFrom this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sightMy worldly business makes a period.Where is my Lord of Warwick?PRINCE HENRYMy Lord of Warwick!Enter WARWICK, and othersKING HENRY IVDoth any name particular belongUnto the lodging where I first did swoon?WARWICK'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.KING HENRY IVLaud be to God! even there my life must end.It hath been prophesied to me many years,I should not die but in Jerusalem;Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land:But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie;In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.ExeuntACT VSCENE I. Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S house.Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and PageSHALLOWBy cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night.What, Davy, I say!FALSTAFFYou must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.SHALLOWI will not excuse you; you shall not be excused;excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuseshall serve; you shall not be excused. Why, Davy!Enter DAVYDAVYHere, sir.SHALLOWDavy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy; let mesee, Davy; let me see: yea, marry, William cook,bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not be excused.DAVYMarry, sir, thus; those precepts cannot be served:and, again, sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat?SHALLOWWith red wheat, Davy. But for William cook: arethere no young pigeons?DAVYYes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeingand plough-irons.SHALLOWLet it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused.DAVYNow, sir, a new link to the bucket must need behad: and, sir, do you mean to stop any of William'swages, about the sack he lost the other day atHinckley fair?SHALLOWA' shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a coupleof short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and anypretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook.DAVYDoth the man of war stay all night, sir?SHALLOWYea, Davy. I will use him well: a friend i' thecourt is better than a penny in purse. Use his menwell, Davy; for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite.DAVYNo worse than they are backbitten, sir; for theyhave marvellous foul linen.SHALLOWWell conceited, Davy: about thy business, Davy.DAVYI beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor ofWoncot against Clement Perkes of the hill.SHALLOWThere is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor:that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.DAVYI grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; butyet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have somecountenance at his friend's request. An honestman, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knaveis not. I have served your worship truly, sir,this eight years; and if I cannot once or twice ina quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, Ihave but a very little credit with your worship. Theknave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, Ibeseech your worship, let him be countenanced.SHALLOWGo to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy.Exit DAVYWhere are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, offwith your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.BARDOLPHI am glad to see your worship.SHALLOWI thank thee with all my heart, kindMaster Bardolph: and welcome, my tall fellow.To the PageCome, Sir John.FALSTAFFI'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.Exit SHALLOWBardolph, look to our horses.Exeunt BARDOLPH and PageIf I were sawed into quantities, I should make fourdozen of such bearded hermits' staves as MasterShallow. It is a wonderful thing to see thesemblable coherence of his men's spirits and his:they, by observing of him, do bear themselves likefoolish justices; he, by conversing with them, isturned into a justice-like serving-man: theirspirits are so married in conjunction with theparticipation of society that they flock together inconsent, like so many wild-geese. If I had a suitto Master Shallow, I would humour his men with theimputation of being near their master: if to hismen, I would curry with Master Shallow that no mancould better command his servants. It is certainthat either wise bearing or ignorant carriage iscaught, as men take diseases, one of another:therefore let men take heed of their company. Iwill devise matter enough out of this Shallow tokeep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearingout of six fashions, which is four terms, or twoactions, and a' shall laugh without intervallums. O,it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jestwith a sad brow will do with a fellow that neverhad the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see himlaugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up!SHALLOWWithin Sir John!FALSTAFFI come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow.ExitSCENE II. Westminster. The palace.Enter WARWICK and the Lord Chief-Justice, meetingWARWICKHow now, my lord chief-justice! whither away?Lord Chief-JusticeHow doth the king?WARWICKExceeding well; his cares are now all ended.Lord Chief-JusticeI hope, not dead.WARWICKHe's walk'd the way of nature;And to our purposes he lives no more.Lord Chief-JusticeI would his majesty had call'd me with him:The service that I truly did his lifeHath left me open to all injuries.WARWICKIndeed I think the young king loves you not.Lord Chief-JusticeI know he doth not, and do arm myselfTo welcome the condition of the time,Which cannot look more hideously upon meThan I have drawn it in my fantasy.Enter LANCASTER, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER,
WESTMORELAND, and othersWARWICKHere come the heavy issue of dead Harry:O that the living Harry had the temperOf him, the worst of these three gentlemen!How many nobles then should hold their placesThat must strike sail to spirits of vile sort!Lord Chief-JusticeO God, I fear all will be overturn'd!LANCASTERGood morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.GLOUCESTERCLARENCEGood morrow, cousin.LANCASTERWe meet like men that had forgot to speak.WARWICKWe do remember; but our argumentIs all too heavy to admit much talk.LANCASTERWell, peace be with him that hath made us heavy.Lord Chief-JusticePeace be with us, lest we be heavier!GLOUCESTERO, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed;And I dare swear you borrow not that faceOf seeming sorrow, it is sure your own.LANCASTERThough no man be assured what grace to find,You stand in coldest expectation:I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise.CLARENCEWell, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair;Which swims against your stream of quality.Lord Chief-JusticeSweet princes, what I did, I did in honour,Led by the impartial conduct of my soul:And never shall you see that I will begA ragged and forestall'd remission.If truth and upright innocency fail me,I'll to the king my master that is dead,And tell him who hath sent me after him.WARWICKHere comes the prince.Enter KING HENRY V, attendedLord Chief-JusticeGood morrow; and God save your majesty!KING HENRY VThis new and gorgeous garment, majesty,Sits not so easy on me as you think.Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear:This is the English, not the Turkish court;Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers,For, by my faith, it very well becomes you:Sorrow so royally in you appearsThat I will deeply put the fashion onAnd wear it in my heart: why then, be sad;But entertain no more of it, good brothers,Than a joint burden laid upon us all.For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured,I'll be your father and your brother too;Let me but bear your love, I 'll bear your cares:Yet weep that Harry's dead; and so will I;But Harry lives, that shall convert those tearsBy number into hours of happiness.PrincesWe hope no other from your majesty.KING HENRY VYou all look strangely on me: and you most;You are, I think, assured I love you not.Lord Chief-JusticeI am assured, if I be measured rightly,Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.KING HENRY VNo!How might a prince of my great hopes forgetSo great indignities you laid upon me?What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prisonThe immediate heir of England! Was this easy?May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten?Lord Chief-JusticeI then did use the person of your father;The image of his power lay then in me:And, in the administration of his law,Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,Your highness pleased to forget my place,The majesty and power of law and justice,The image of the king whom I presented,And struck me in my very seat of judgment;Whereon, as an offender to your father,I gave bold way to my authorityAnd did commit you. If the deed were ill,Be you contented, wearing now the garland,To have a son set your decrees at nought,To pluck down justice from your awful bench,To trip the course of law and blunt the swordThat guards the peace and safety of your person;Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal imageAnd mock your workings in a second body.Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours;Be now the father and propose a son,Hear your own dignity so much profaned,See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd;And then imagine me taking your partAnd in your power soft silencing your son:After this cold considerance, sentence me;And, as you are a king, speak in your stateWhat I have done that misbecame my place,My person, or my liege's sovereignty.KING HENRY VYou are right, justice, and you weigh this well;Therefore still bear the balance and the sword:And I do wish your honours may increase,Till you do live to see a son of mineOffend you and obey you, as I did.So shall I live to speak my father's words:'Happy am I, that have a man so bold,That dares do justice on my proper son;And not less happy, having such a son,That would deliver up his greatness soInto the hands of justice.' You did commit me:For which, I do commit into your handThe unstained sword that you have used to bear;With this remembrance, that you use the sameWith the like bold, just and impartial spiritAs you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand.You shall be as a father to my youth:My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear,And I will stoop and humble my intentsTo your well-practised wise directions.And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you;My father is gone wild into his grave,For in his tomb lie my affections;And with his spirit sadly I survive,To mock the expectation of the world,To frustrate prophecies and to raze outRotten opinion, who hath writ me downAfter my seeming. The tide of blood in meHath proudly flow'd in vanity till now:Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea,Where it shall mingle with the state of floodsAnd flow henceforth in formal majesty.Now call we our high court of parliament:And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,That the great body of our state may goIn equal rank with the best govern'd nation;That war, or peace, or both at once, may beAs things acquainted and familiar to us;In which you, father, shall have foremost hand.Our coronation done, we will accite,As I before remember'd, all our state:And, God consigning to my good intents,No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say,God shorten Harry's happy life one day!ExeuntSCENE III. Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S orchard.Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, DAVY, BARDOLPH,
and the PageSHALLOWNay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour,we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing,with a dish of caraways, and so forth: come,cousin Silence: and then to bed.FALSTAFF'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.SHALLOWBarren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all,Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread,Davy; well said, Davy.FALSTAFFThis Davy serves you for good uses; he is yourserving-man and your husband.SHALLOWA good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet,Sir John: by the mass, I have drunk too much sackat supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, now sitdown: come, cousin.SILENCEAh, sirrah! quoth-a, we shallDo nothing but eat, and make good cheer,SingingAnd praise God for the merry year;When flesh is cheap and females dear,And lusty lads roam here and thereSo merrily,And ever among so merrily.FALSTAFFThere's a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I'llgive you a health for that anon.SHALLOWGive Master Bardolph some wine, Davy.DAVYSweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon. most sweetsir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit.Proface! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink:but you must bear; the heart's all.ExitSHALLOWBe merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldierthere, be merry.SILENCEBe merry, be merry, my wife has all;SingingFor women are shrews, both short and tall:'Tis merry in hall when beards wag all,And welcome merry Shrove-tide.Be merry, be merry.FALSTAFFI did not think Master Silence had been a man ofthis mettle.SILENCEWho, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now.Re-enter DAVYDAVYThere's a dish of leather-coats for you.To BARDOLPHSHALLOWDavy!DAVYYour worship! I'll be with you straight.To BARDOLPHA cup of wine, sir?SILENCEA cup of wine that's brisk and fine,SingingAnd drink unto the leman mine;And a merry heart lives long-a.FALSTAFFWell said, Master Silence.SILENCEAn we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' the night.FALSTAFFHealth and long life to you, Master Silence.SILENCEFill the cup, and let it come;SingingI'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.SHALLOWHonest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest anything, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart.Welcome, my little tiny thief.To the PageAnd welcome indeed too. I'll drink to MasterBardolph, and to all the cavaleros about London.DAVYI hove to see London once ere I die.BARDOLPHAn I might see you there, Davy,--SHALLOWBy the mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha!Will you not, Master Bardolph?BARDOLPHYea, sir, in a pottle-pot.SHALLOWBy God's liggens, I thank thee: the knave willstick by thee, I can assure thee that. A' will notout; he is true bred.BARDOLPHAnd I'll stick by him, sir.SHALLOWWhy, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry.Knocking withinLook who's at door there, ho! who knocks?Exit DAVYFALSTAFFWhy, now you have done me right.To SILENCE, seeing him take off a bumperSILENCESingingDo me right,And dub me knight: Samingo.Is't not so?FALSTAFF'Tis so.SILENCEIs't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat.Re-enter DAVYDAVYAn't please your worship, there's one Pistol comefrom the court with news.FALSTAFFFrom the court! let him come in.Enter PISTOLHow now, Pistol!PISTOLSir John, God save you!FALSTAFFWhat wind blew you hither, Pistol?PISTOLNot the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweetknight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.SILENCEBy'r lady, I think a' be, but goodman Puff of Barson.PISTOLPuff!Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend,And helter-skelter have I rode to thee,And tidings do I bring and lucky joysAnd golden times and happy news of price.FALSTAFFI pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world.PISTOLA foutre for the world and worldlings base!I speak of Africa and golden joys.FALSTAFFO base Assyrian knight, what is thy news?Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.SILENCEAnd Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.SingingPISTOLShall dunghill curs confront the Helicons?And shall good news be baffled?Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.SILENCEHonest gentleman, I know not your breeding.PISTOLWhy then, lament therefore.SHALLOWGive me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with newsfrom the court, I take it there's but two ways,either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am,sir, under the king, in some authority.PISTOLUnder which king, Besonian? speak, or die.SHALLOWUnder King Harry.PISTOLHarry the Fourth? or Fifth?SHALLOWHarry the Fourth.PISTOLA foutre for thine office!Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king;Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth:When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, likeThe bragging Spaniard.FALSTAFFWhat, is the old king dead?PISTOLAs nail in door: the things I speak are just.FALSTAFFAway, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master RobertShallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land,'tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities.BARDOLPHO joyful day!I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.PISTOLWhat! I do bring good news.FALSTAFFCarry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, myLord Shallow,--be what thou wilt; I am fortune'ssteward--get on thy boots: we'll ride all night.O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph!Exit BARDOLPHCome, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devisesomething to do thyself good. Boot, boot, MasterShallow: I know the young king is sick for me. Letus take any man's horses; the laws of England are atmy commandment. Blessed are they that have been myfriends; and woe to my lord chief-justice!PISTOLLet vultures vile seize on his lungs also!'Where is the life that late I led?' say they:Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days!ExeuntSCENE IV. London. A street.Enter Beadles, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY
and DOLL TEARSHEETMISTRESS QUICKLYNo, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I mightdie, that I might have thee hanged: thou hastdrawn my shoulder out of joint.First BeadleThe constables have delivered her over to me; andshe shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warranther: there hath been a man or two lately killed about her.DOLL TEARSHEETNut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I 'll tellthee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, anthe child I now go with do miscarry, thou wertbetter thou hadst struck thy mother, thoupaper-faced villain.MISTRESS QUICKLYO the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would makethis a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God thefruit of her womb miscarry!First BeadleIf it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again;you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both gowith me; for the man is dead that you and Pistolbeat amongst you.DOLL TEARSHEETI'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, Iwill have you as soundly swinged for this,--youblue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner,if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles.First BeadleCome, come, you she knight-errant, come.MISTRESS QUICKLYO God, that right should thus overcome might!Well, of sufferance comes ease.DOLL TEARSHEETCome, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.MISTRESS QUICKLYAy, come, you starved blood-hound.DOLL TEARSHEETGoodman death, goodman bones!MISTRESS QUICKLYThou atomy, thou!DOLL TEARSHEETCome, you thin thing; come you rascal.First BeadleVery well.ExeuntSCENE V. A public place near Westminster Abbey.Enter two Grooms, strewing rushesFirst GroomMore rushes, more rushes.Second GroomThe trumpets have sounded twice.First Groom'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from thecoronation: dispatch, dispatch.ExeuntEnter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, PISTOL,
BARDOLPH, and PageFALSTAFFStand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I willmake the king do you grace: I will leer upon him asa' comes by; and do but mark the countenance that hewill give me.PISTOLGod bless thy lungs, good knight.FALSTAFFCome here, Pistol; stand behind me. O, if I had hadtime to have made new liveries, I would havebestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But'tis no matter; this poor show doth better: thisdoth infer the zeal I had to see him.SHALLOWIt doth so.FALSTAFFIt shows my earnestness of affection,--SHALLOWIt doth so.FALSTAFFMy devotion,--SHALLOWIt doth, it doth, it doth.FALSTAFFAs it were, to ride day and night; and not todeliberate, not to remember, not to have patienceto shift me,--SHALLOWIt is best, certain.FALSTAFFBut to stand stained with travel, and sweating withdesire to see him; thinking of nothing else,putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if therewere nothing else to be done but to see him.PISTOL'Tis 'semper idem,' for 'obsque hoc nihil est:''tis all in every part.SHALLOW'Tis so, indeed.PISTOLMy knight, I will inflame thy noble liver,And make thee rage.Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,Is in base durance and contagious prison;Haled thitherBy most mechanical and dirty hand:Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fellAlecto's snake,For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.FALSTAFFI will deliver her.Shouts within, and the trumpets soundPISTOLThere roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds.Enter KING HENRY V and his train, the Lord Chief-
Justice among themFALSTAFFGod save thy grace, King Hal! my royal Hal!PISTOLThe heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame!FALSTAFFGod save thee, my sweet boy!KING HENRY IVMy lord chief-justice, speak to that vain man.Lord Chief-JusticeHave you your wits? know you what 'tis to speak?FALSTAFFMy king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart!KING HENRY IVI know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers;How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!I have long dream'd of such a kind of man,So surfeit-swell'd, so old and so profane;But, being awaked, I do despise my dream.Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace;Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gapeFor thee thrice wider than for other men.Reply not to me with a fool-born jest:Presume not that I am the thing I was;For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,That I have turn'd away my former self;So will I those that kept me company.When thou dost hear I am as I have been,Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,The tutor and the feeder of my riots:Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death,As I have done the rest of my misleaders,Not to come near our person by ten mile.For competence of life I will allow you,That lack of means enforce you not to evil:And, as we hear you do reform yourselves,We will, according to your strengths and qualities,Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord,To see perform'd the tenor of our word. Set on.Exeunt KING HENRY V, &cFALSTAFFMaster Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.SHALLOWYea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let mehave home with me.FALSTAFFThat can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not yougrieve at this; I shall be sent for in private tohim: look you, he must seem thus to the world:fear not your advancements; I will be the man yetthat shall make you great.SHALLOWI cannot well perceive how, unless you should giveme your doublet and stuff me out with straw. Ibeseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundredof my thousand.FALSTAFFSir, I will be as good as my word: this that youheard was but a colour.SHALLOWA colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John.FALSTAFFFear no colours: go with me to dinner: come,Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph: I shall be sentfor soon at night.Re-enter Prince John of LANCASTER, the Lord
Chief-Justice; Officers with themLord Chief-JusticeGo, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet:Take all his company along with him.FALSTAFFMy lord, my lord,--Lord Chief-JusticeI cannot now speak: I will hear you soon.Take them away.PISTOLSi fortune me tormenta, spero contenta.Exeunt all but PRINCE JOHN and the Lord
Chief-JusticeLANCASTERI like this fair proceeding of the king's:He hath intent his wonted followersShall all be very well provided for;But all are banish'd till their conversationsAppear more wise and modest to the world.Lord Chief-JusticeAnd so they are.LANCASTERThe king hath call'd his parliament, my lord.Lord Chief-JusticeHe hath.LANCASTERI will lay odds that, ere this year expire,We bear our civil swords and native fireAs far as France: I heard a bird so sing,Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.Come, will you hence?ExeuntEPILOGUESpoken by a DancerFirst my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech.My fear is, your displeasure; my courtesy, my duty;and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you lookfor a good speech now, you undo me: for what I haveto say is of mine own making; and what indeed Ishould say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring.But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be itknown to you, as it is very well, I was lately herein the end of a displeasing play, to pray yourpatience for it and to promise you a better. Imeant indeed to pay you with this; which, if like anill venture it come unluckily home, I break, andyou, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised youI would be and here I commit my body to yourmercies: bate me some and I will pay you some and,as most debtors do, promise you infinitely.If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, willyou command me to use my legs? and yet that were butlight payment, to dance out of your debt. But agood conscience will make any possible satisfaction,and so would I. All the gentlewomen here haveforgiven me: if the gentlemen will not, then thegentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, whichwas never seen before in such an assembly.One word more, I beseech you. If you be not toomuch cloyed with fat meat, our humble author willcontinue the story, with Sir John in it, and makeyou merry with fair Katharine of France: where, forany thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat,unless already a' be killed with your hardopinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this isnot the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs aretoo, I will bid you good night: and so kneel downbefore you; but, indeed, to pray for the queen.